Sister's Keeper
by Silent Wolf Singer
Summary: Summary: Alysanne Targaryen is the third child of the Mad King. At age three she lost the majority of her family during the rebellion. During the Game of Thrones as Viserys sister-wife, she must do everything she can to protect her sweet sister Daenerys from the cruel world they live in.
1. Chapter 1: Three Orphan Dragons

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: Warning this story starts off with violence against women and incest.**_

_**Summary: Alysanne Targaryen is the third child of the Mad King. At age of three she lost the majority of her family during the rebellion. During the Game of Thrones as Viserys sister-wife, she must do everything as she can to protect her sweet sister Daenerys from the cruel world they live in.**_

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**Chapter 1: The Three Orphan Dragons**

I was three years old when Robert Baratheon rebelled against House Targaryen. I was three years old when my father King Aerys the Second sent my mother Queen Rhaella, my brother Prince Viserys, and I to Dragonstone for our safety. I was four years old when the majority of my family were dead.

The first causality was my older brother the Crown Prince Rhaegar…crushed to death by Robert Baratheon Warhammer on the Battle of the Trident. The second was my father, betrayed by his Kingsguard Ser Jaime Lannister while Lord Tywin Lannister was sacking the city. The third, fourth, and fifth were my niece, nephew, and sister-in-law: Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia Martell. All three brutally murder by Ser Gregor Clegane. The last person to die in during the rebellion was my mother, Queen Rhaella who died from complication in childbirth. Leaving Viserys and me to raise our newborn sister Daenerys.

That night when she was born happened during the worst storm imaginable. Viserys and I were in our room, all we could hear was thunder, lightning, the waves crashing, and the wailings from our mother. My brother who was six at the time tried to comfort me for I was scared. He told a story that outside the sea dragon Naga was fighting against two powerful dragons of thunder and lightning. By morning, the wet-nurse came in with a swaddled infant saying her name was Daenerys. Although it was Ser Willem Darry, who informed us that our mother had died.

Ser Willem took us into his custody, not knowing until I was older that my father was dead and the Usurper King Robert had sent his brother Stannis Baratheon to send a fleet to execute the rest of us. The Targaryen fleet was demolished during the storm, yet Ser Willem managed to smuggle us out of Dragonstone to Braavos, where we lived in hiding. One unique feature of the house was the red door and the fruitful trees. Five years we lived there, as Ser Willem's wards. It was our childhood when Ser Willem wasn't traveling, he is educated us. Promising Viserys he will be King one day, and Daenerys and I will be wed to influential families. Sadly, he'd fallen ill till the Stanger claimed him. The servants betrayed us, stealing what little money we had, before tossing us into the streets. Viserys was eleven, I was eight, and Daenerys was five.

For many years we lived off the streets. We wandered through the Free Cities as guests of powerful people. From Braavos, to Myr, next to Tyrosh, on to Qohor, Volantis, and Lys, never staying at one location too long. Although many hosts welcome us into their homes, the welcome would fade over time. Not because of attempted assassins…but because of Viserys attitude. Daenerys and I were well behaved, participating in our hosts' daughters' lessons. We never asked or demand, yet Viserys…he demanded many things. Calling himself the Dragon. It wasn't until Viserys did something to a host that had us kicked out.

Being the responsible sibling, I had to make the necessary sacrifice by selling my inheritance. Selling my mother's crown. Viserys was angry, furious that when I came to the small hobble with enough gold to last us a few years, I was beaten up. He still had father's ring, his sword, and I had sold everything that was sacred to me so he and Dany could have their keepsakes. The only thing I had left was a necklace with a small pearl on it and a carved dragon that Rhaegar gave me on my third name day. I knew right away we won't be going home. I knew that we needed to survive. I was barely a woman, and I advise Viserys that we needed to accept our fate, to find jobs and hopefully spouses who can pull us out of this destitution. Viserys grew angry saying "I woke the dragon" and stated we will not mingle our bloodline with lesser men. I was beaten, haired yanked and the worse…raped. I was fifteen when he took me, stealing my virginity. Realizing what he had done, he tried to resolve the situation of my ruining. When one host took us in, a ceremony of marriage was made. No longer was I Viserys sister, I was now his sister-wife.

Afraid for Dany's safety, I took the risk of taming the dragon. Ensuring my sweet little sister wouldn't experience the abuse that I dealt with. As Viserys anger grew furious when denied by the Golden Company of service and receiving the title as the Beggar King. He would at times resent Dany for the death of our mother during her birth, began treating her abusively both verbally and physically…but I tried to stop the physical abuse. Usually, it resulted in forced sex, reminding me I "wake the dragon," but I did what I can to protect Dany.

One time it resulted in a pregnancy. A child I did not want but gain the support of a rich man who can obtain the Iron Throne once an heir was born. Unfortunately, during one of Viserys rages…I ended up miscarrying. It was a hard time, but the loss of the child snapped Viserys out of this rage. He apologizes, holding me in his arms realizing his behavior was not acceptable. It only lasted a year, until Magister Illyrio Mopatis found us. He took us in, allowing us to live with him in Pentos.

It was a year of peace. I was nineteen. Although I was bound by the duties of a sister-wife. Hiding my pain and suffering, masking the bruises and drying my tears. Magister Illyrio noticed the bruises, out of pity he found a way to appease my brother-husband by purchasing a servant girl who is trained in Lys. A woman name Doreah. She was usually kept away from my sight, as customs of the wife not seeing the mistress. As long as she keeps Viserys away from my bed, I am pleased.

By Targaryen customs, it was traditions to keep the family line pure. Our ancestors of Old Valyria follow these customs of marrying siblings, cousins, and nieces to uncle. Only rare occasions did we allow others to mingle in the bloodline. Preferably those of Valyrian descent. Unfortunately, there must be something wrong with me. It disgusts me when I lay intercourse with Viserys. After sleeping with him, all I want to do is take a bath and scrub away his touches. But I must obey to protect Dany. My sweet sister was sixteen now. She was at an age to wed. At least House Targaryen no longer follows the practice of polygamy.

However, in a patriarchal society, Viserys can choose her husband. Magister Illyrio searched for potential husbands for Daenerys. I recommended a few rich men who can afford many armies. However, Viserys and Magister Illyrio selected her husband…Khal Drogo, a warlord of the Dothraki. This Khal Drogo would take my sweet innocent sister as a bride, in exchange for Dothraki troops. I've heard about the Dothraki, they were savages, nomadic horse lords who are fierce warriors, skilled in battle, and unrelenting combat. However, they are not advance in society. They pillage and enslave people, take women worse than property and rape them. Viserys only listen to the first half of my rant, not accepting the consequences that if Khal Drogo grows tired of Daenerys, he can kill her and find another wife.

Once more, my words of reason were ignored, and Viserys told Magister Illyrio to arrange the marriage. All my life I've become the mother in our family. I took the responsibility of raising Daenerys. All my years of protecting her, preventing her from starvation, clothed, and shelter has gone to waste.

History was repeating itself as I've become my mother.

The Abused Queen.

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	2. Chapter 2: It Began Today

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 2: It Began Today**

I dreaded this day. Sixteen years I watched over my sweet sister Dany, protecting her the best to my ability. Saving her innocents from lechers, savages, and corrupt men. Now, her fate was out of my hand and into a warlord. I pray to the Seven that he is not like other Dothraki Chieftain. Let alone, her first experience of intimacy not like the stories.

The doors opened to my chambers as Viserys came in. He was happy, pleased on the marital arrangement with the greatest warlord in the grasslands. Privately, I had a word with Magister Illyrio about the Dothraki customs of marriage. The host assured me, that Daenerys will walk up to Khal Drogo and he shall decide if she is to his satisfaction or not. When I asked him how we shall know if Daenerys was to his satisfaction or not? The Magister assured me, we will know. I was not pleased with his answer. So, I searched through his library on Dothraki culture. Unfortunate, there were none.

Viserys came over to the balcony where I was sewing his new formal tunic for the wedding. Days of nonstop embroidery to form House Targaryen crest of a red three-headed dragon. Along with details of scales along the collar and sleeves. He walked behind me massaging my shoulders causing me to tense that I forced myself to relax.

"Alysanne, your muscles are tense," he murmured.

"Forgive me, I did not sleep well last night," I said. "As the saying goes, woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Is the mattress not to your satisfaction?" he asked. "My queen deserves everything."

"The mattress is fine," I answered, resting my hand on his. Adjusting to face him, "You may say, I was fighting the resistance of leather."

As I presented him his tunic for the wedding. Viserys grabbed the rich fabric examining it, analyzing every specific detail. I made sure I used to proper fabrics and the shades of red. Magister Illyrio kindly purchased the beads and expensive threads suitable for a king. A pleased smile graced his lips.

"You are talented with your needlework," he murmured. "Mother would be proud."

I smiled softly at the mention of Mother. How I miss her so. Even though I didn't have a secure memory of my childhood in King's Landing as Viserys. I do remember bits and pieces. I remember my room, high in a tower where the only selected people were there: Mother, Viserys, the Wet-nurse, Septa, and two Kingsguard. Ser Willem told me his brother Ser Jonothor Darry was one of my protectors, while the second protector switched between Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Harlan Grandison, and Ser Oswell Whent. I remembered my niece Princess Rhaenys, her soft tan skin, dark hair with a sliver of silver and deep brown eyes. We played under watchful eyes of the adults, where Mother and Elia sat by while Rhaegar would play his harp. On stormy nights, Rhaegar would bring Rhaenys to my chambers and read us stories.

From those rare memories, I still recall my Mothers face. She had long silver hair, always left down to cover her pale skin dabbled in bruises and scars. A sadden face, trying to keep a mask in front of us yet when around her children her purples eyes smiled. Those purple eyes that resembled irises. She would hold me in her arms and called me her "Golden Dragon." Unlike my siblings whose white hair hold a tint of silver, in a certain light, there is a hint of gold in mine. Father, on the other hand, I do not recall very well. I remember a sickly old man with long tangle white hair, pale eyes, and long fingernails. Viserys always said Father was always busy in ruling a kingdom.

But it didn't stop the rumors I heard during our travels through the Free Cities. Our Host gossiping behind our back or the nannies whispering in the halls. They proclaim King Aerys the Second was mad. Sickness in the mind that he would burn people alive with Wildfire if he so much as thinks a person was going to kill him. The rumors deepen, learning more of my family hearing that Rhaegar stolen a woman name Lyanna Stark from the North who was promised to Robert Baratheon. Baffling since he was married to Elia Martell. When Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon went to King's Landing to retrieve the young woman…my father burned them alive with wildfire. The taking of Lyanna was a spark while burning Lord Rickard, and Brandon Stark was the fuel that started the rebellion.

I never told my siblings this. Viserys honored our brother Rhaegar and our Father. Mentioning these rumors and accusations infuriates him that you cannot predict his outburst.

"Thank you," I said.

"You should get ready," Viserys announced. "I cannot present my Queen in your attire."

I forced a small chuckle since I was still in my evening gown. Standing up, I took the tunic and put it away, so it doesn't get a wrinkle. A servant presented a dress for the occasion. It was a sheath down with cape sleeves and a V-neck. It was in the color lilac. Viserys took a seat watching the view. His lilac eyes being a predator gazing at its prey along with a smirk. I knew what that smirk meant a dreaded it.

Once dressed, I sat by the vanity where the servant brushed my hair and put it in elaborate braids. She took a vial of perfume of Viserys favorite fragrance and dabbed it on my neck. Once she was done, Viserys told her to leave. I sat at the vanity, indigo eyes watching him approach through the mirror's reflection. He stood behind me, resting his hands on my shoulder. Not saying a word, he opened the jewelry box and pulled out Mother's necklace and secured it around my neck, followed by the Targaryen brooch.

"Beautiful," he murmured into my ear that sent a shudder down my spine. "I always forget how beautiful you look."

"Thank you," I managed to say.

"Will you allow me in your bed tonight," he asked.

My stomach twists. Not wanting to deal with his wrath, I nodded which he grins and kissed my cheek. There must be something wrong with me. We were Targaryens. We should be attracted to one another. And yet, I hold no attraction or desire for Viserys. I feel disgusted every time he is inside me, and ashamed on other sexual acts. Most in which leave bruises on my body. It was either his way or a beating.

"Come, we must present Dany her gift," Viserys said.

**.o0o.**

Viserys rushed into Daenerys apartment where she was preparing for the ceremony. I went after him, to make sure nothing happens. Although, based on how excited Viserys was, I'm convinced he won't torment her. But it's safe to follow to be sure. Entering her quarters seeing it absent, Viserys walked into the bathing chambers. There Daenerys was stood on the balcony observing the views of Pentos. She turned around, her violet eyes nervous as she walked over to us. The past two years Viserys has been on his good behavior since the loss of our child. However, you never know when his behavior will change.

"Daenerys! There's our bride-to-be." Viserys said, walking over presenting the dress. "Look, a gift from Illyrio. Touch it. Go on, feel the fabric."

Daenerys quietly touched her wedding dress. She looked up seeing how happy Viserys was.

"Mm. Isn't he a gracious host?" Viserys asked.

"We've been his guests for over a year, and he's never asked us for anything," Daenerys murmured.

"Illyrio's no fool," Viserys said. "He knows I won't forget my friends when I come into my throne."

Daenerys nodded, her posture uneven. Slouching was one of her bad habits. One Viserys tried to break. He handed me the dress while he attempted to fix her posture.

"You still slouch," he said. His hands going to the back of her dress, unlacing her halter causing the fabric to fall. "Let them see." He examined her body, focus on her breast. "You have a woman's body now." He sighed touching her breast. "I need you to be perfect today. Can you do that for me?"

Daenerys couldn't answer petrified in what happened.

"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" Viserys asked.

"She has butterflies, Viserys," I said. "I to was nervous before our wedding. Unable to speak."

Viserys gazed at me with a smile. Our wedding in how our Host organized it was the most beautiful event in his eyes while it was hell for me. But saying it, made Viserys forget his threat on Dany. He gave me a peck on the lip and started walking out of the room. He stopped by the door, facing us.

"When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say it began today." He said and left.

Once he was gone, Daenerys and I heaved a heavy sighed. I apologized to her, knowing the promise I made that he would never touch her. The past week Magister Illyrio wanting to protect Daenerys maidenhead, posted guards in case Viserys dares commands the First Night. Sadly, what happened a moment ago…happened so fast. She merely nodded, stepping out of her dress and walked towards the pool where her bath was. One of the servants rushed to stop her.

"It's too hot, my lady." She said.

Yet she continued in until sitting on the bench. Unlike most people, we Targaryens are unable to feel pain when it comes to heat. Or at least Daenerys and I. What people would say the water is boiling when in fact it is the perfect temperature. Some host thinks we have a higher tolerance since Old Valyria runs in our veins. Either way, nothing was too hot.

Setting the dress on the table. I grabbed a brush and sat on the ledge grooming her hair. She sighed, relaxing to my touch.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't find you a perfect match," I said.

"Viserys always has the final say," Daenerys mumbled.

"At least you're not marrying him," I tried to reason.

Daenerys turned around taking my hand. "You deserve better. What he does to you…its…its…"

I took her hand and stopped her. My fate to Viserys was set in stone. We are Targaryens, and we have to keep the family line pure. Even though I would rather marry another man, Father would have wanted this. A pure line since Rhaegar was married to Elia. I pray that Daenerys's husband-to-be is different from all the information Magister Illyrio proclaimed. That he will not treat my sister like a whore and respect her. But I knew those are mere lies. Men take what they want, and we as women allow it. We were second class; our word is not heard unless we were the last of our house.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on getting Daenerys ready to meet her husband. To prepare her for the ceremony. Once she was done with her bath, lather in lotions and perfumes. I braided two strands of hair to form a band on her head and help her in her dress. The dress was a sheath gown, sleeveless and exposed her cleavage. On each of her shoulders were silver brooches of a three-headed dragon, signifying our House.

I examined her, seeing how magnificent she was. Almost resembling Mother. I kissed her forehead as we made way to join the others.

**.o0o.**

The Ceremony took place at the front of the estate. All forty Magisters of Pentos, including the Prince of Pentos, were present as the servants provided shade. On the landing, Viserys stood beside Magister Illyrio while Daenerys and I stood behind them. Viserys in the ceremonial attire of green and gold that I sewed for him a few weeks ago when confirmation of the match was set. We stood in the sun, waiting for the Dothraki Chieftain and his blood riders.

Viserys grew impatient, "Where is he?"

"The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality," Illyrio explained.

A sound of galloping horses could be heard. We stood tall presenting ourselves as strong rulers as a group of riders appeared at the entrance. There were several of the Dothraki, men half dressed, clad in leather and hide. All muscular, with dark hair, copper-tone skin, and robust facial features. One, in particular, stood out, being the biggest of them all, striking characteristic of a long braid down his spine.

Magister Illyrio smiled greeting the riders in Dothraki, "_Atchomar chomakaan, khal vezhyen_. May I present my honored guests? Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, his sister-wife Alysanne of House Targaryen, and his sister Daenerys of House Targaryen."

Our gracious host walked down to greet Khal Drogo personally. Daenerys was paled in seeing her husband-to-be. As if she was going to faint. Viserys grabbed her, securing her posture.

"Do you see how long his hair is?" He asked quietly. "When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. He's a savage, of course, but one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen. "

Magister Illyrio turned to offer a hand, "Come forward, my dear."

Daenerys took a deep breath and obey. Viserys and I stood where we were observing the supposed ceremony. As Magister Illyrio explained previously, the bride shall walk up to the groom to present herself. There, the groom shall decide if she is to his liking or not. My sweet sister came down, standing before Khal Drogo. His dark eyes linger on her through a neutral face, impossible to tell what he was thinking. A long moment, to which he nodded and rode off with his blood riders.

We were confused, not sure if that was acceptance or rejection. Viserys ran down the steps while I walked over to Magister Illyrio.

"Where is he going?" Viserys asked, near whine.

"The ceremony is over," Magister Illyrio answered.

"But he didn't say anything," I said.

"Did he like her?" Viserys asked.

"Trust me, Your Grace, if he didn't like her, we'd know," Magister Illyrio answered.

All eyes turned to him wondering what he meant by that? Does the Dothraki kill the potential bride if he did not like her? That is barbaric. To judge a woman's worth based on her appearance alone. Not the customs of the Free Cities or what Ser Willem told about Westeros. Catching our bearings from this strange ceremony, we went on a walk through the gardens. Illyrio and Viserys were ahead while Daenerys and I followed behind. They stopped at a terrace looking forward of the Narrow Sea.

"It won't be long now," Magister Illyrio said. "Soo you will cross the Narrow Sea and take back your father's throne. The people drink secret toasts to your health. They cry out for their true king."

Over the year of being the Magister guests, he has confided to Viserys about Westeros from his spies. He states that several loyal houses will be on our side. Our greatest ally is the Martells through a marital union of Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar, if not being distant cousin since King Daeron the Second who married Princess Mariah Martell. Other Houses who would support us were the Tyrells, Redwynes, Darrys, Greyjoys, and the smallfolk. I question most of these Houses since the Tyrells were an opportunist, once siding with House Targaryen then turncoat when Robert Baratheon murdered Rhaegar at the tridents. The Redwynes were in a marital alliance with House Tyrell, so they too can be a question of their loyalty. The Greyjoys…they were pirates. Ser Willem prayed Balon Rebellion would kill the Usurper Stag leaving an open opportunity to return. Once more, Robert Baratheon won. Other than House Martell, leaves Darrys, since that was Ser Willem family and Ser Jonothor being a brother of the Kingsguard. Viserys doesn't seem to realize this. Then again, he was more focus on House Targaryen's history instead of Westeros.

"When will they be married?" Viserys asked as he started to walk again.

"Soon. The Dothraki never stay still for long," Illyrio answered.

"Is it true they lie with their horses?" Viserys asked.

"I wouldn't ask Khal Drogo," Illyrio advised.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Viserys threatened.

"I take you for a king," Illyrio praised. "Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I've given offense."

"I know how to play a man like Drogo," Viserys said. "I give him a queen, and he gives me an army."

Daenerys stopped, "I don't want to be his queen."

The two men stop facing us.

"I want to go home," she said.

"So do I. So does Alysanne," Viserys said as he came over resting his hand on her shoulder. "I want us both to go home, but they took it from us. So, tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?"

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo's army," Viserys said, cradling her cheek. "I would let his whole tribe fuck you and Alysanne—all 40,000 men and their horses too if that's what it took."

I forced myself not to scowl or shudder in horrid disgust. Knowing deep down, Viserys would prostitute us in means of winning.

Viserys kissed her Daenerys forehead and stepped back wrapping his arm around me. I looked over my shoulder advising Daenerys not to tempt him. As much as I loathed Viserys the same as she does. Throughout the entire day was spent on wedding preparation. The Prince of Pentos happily arranging it on the rocky shores that merge both Pentos and Dothraki cultures. By nightfall, Daenerys was escorted to her chambers where guards protected her virtue.

I went to my chambers, preparing for the dreadful night. The servants placing fresh silk sheets and lavish pillows on the bed. Lighting candles, and burning incense of sweet aroma. A tray of wine and decadent treats on the table. Once I was changed into an organza robe and hair free from its confines I sat on the bed and waited. Time seemed to past, wondering if Viserys was having a long conversation with Magister Illyrio. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour when there was a knock on the door. Viserys wouldn't knock, he would barge in.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"A servant, my lady," a man replied . "I came to report that his grace won't be attending this evening."

I sighed in relief. "Thank you for the message."

"You're welcome, my lady." The servant said before leaving.

I sat there feeling the weight off my shoulders to sleep in peace tonight. Standing up, I walked over to the table plucking a grape and ate it. Tonight, was mine.

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 3: A Dothraki Wedding

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**_A/N: Warning this chapter is rated M, for sexual content and incest_.**

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**Chapter 3: A Dothraki Wedding**

On the day of the wedding, I dreaded it. The past two days I prepared my sister for her marriage to a Dothraki horse lord. I've eavesdropped on several Magisters about the Dothraki culture. They were jesting on taking women from behind like a hound takes a bitch. I was disgusted; that is how the consummation will be set. Out in the open and taken from behind. A completely different culture. I informed Daenerys of this, so she could be prepared. I was never prepared on my first, so hopefully being prepared will help her.

By the morning the servants handle Daenerys while I remained in my chambers dressing for the event. Already dressed in a black sheath gown with the jeweled neckline of red gems and beads. It was sleeveless as well, as the embroidery to form of wings in the back of the dragon. My hair was put up in braids where the Targaryen brooch was secured.

As usual, Viserys barged into my room. Wearing the tunic, I sewed for him, leather pants, black boots, a cape over his shoulder where the brooch secured to his chest, and his two swords. He smiled coming over to the vanity, resting his hands on my shoulder.

"Aren't you lovely," Viserys murmured.

"Want to remind them we are Targaryens," I said. "That you are King."

"And they'll remember that," he smirked then sighed. "Apologies on not seeing you the last few nights."

I turned to face him, "You are a King, no need to apologize. I'm sure there were important things to attend to than warming my bed."

Viserys nodded as he cradles my cheek, "Tonight, I promise you I will be here. Khal Drogo promised me an army. In order to secure our claim, we will need an heir."

I merely nodded.

My brother-husband smirked kneeling down and pecked my forehead. Afterward, he offered a hand, "Come, let's see our sister."

I nodded, accepting his hand as he pulled me up. We left the chambers though I was lost in deep thought wondering how to avoid another pregnancy. Deep down I don't want my brother's child. Reading books about my family appears after every second or third generation of incest there was a complication. Mother had complications through her adult life resulting in many miscarriages, stillborn, or infant deaths. Viserys and I were the third generations after our Great Grandfather King Aegon the Fifth married Betha Blackwood. Our grandfather King Jaehaerys the Second married his sister Shaera against his father's wishes. Viserys told me that a Woods Witch prophesied that if Aerys the Second married his sister Rhaella, she will birth the prince that was promised. With Rhaegar dead, Viserys believes he is that prince. But I fear what ailments our children would have.

There is a quote people say about the Targaryens. _Every time a new __Targaryen__ is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land._ One side's madness the other is greatness. The madness people question. King Maegor I, King BaelorI, Prince Rhaegel, Prince Aerion, King Aerys II, were considered mad. Glancing at my brother-husband, I ponder if he caught the mental decease that plagues our family. If not madness, I caution physical illness. Our grandfather was constantly ill, as were many other of our ancestors. Either way, I do not want his child. The gods have been good in preventing the conception, but how long will it take till Viserys seeds grows into an heir?

We joined Daenerys who wore a white halter dress, the center was the Targaryen brooch. Her hair was let down where silver beads were latched. Silver armbands with strands of fabric. I smiled in how she looked, yet wish her marriage was to a civilized man. Viserys smirked seeing her presented ready for marriage.

"Remember, make him happy," Viserys said.

Daenerys nodded.

We left joining Magister Illyrio where a palanquin took us to the cliffs where the ceremony took place. A Dothraki wedding occurred beneath the open sky. The second ceremony was spoken in their native language, as Magister Illyrio explained quietly what was happening. Talking about the Great Stallion blessing this union. Daenerys merely nodded, not understanding the language. Magister Illyrio said Khal Drogo is limited on the common tongue but is able to translate. So, he knows what people are saying, but is not able to speak. Although, he still keeps a translator due to accents.

Once the ritual ceremony was over that spiritually binds the two, it was time for the reception. Magister Illyrio assigned a few guards for my protection. I told him that is not necessary since I will be by my brother-husband, yet Illyrio insisted. When Viserys asked him why, the gracious host explained women at a Dothraki Wedding are free for all. So, I had guards to protect me. In order to protect me from a sexual assault and preventing a rape.

On the reception steps, Khal Drogo and Daenerys sat center. On each side were two blood riders, and on groom side of the steps more of his loyal men. On Daenerys side, was Viserys, Magister Illyrio, the Prince of Pentos, and I along with servants who provided refreshments to our tasting. At the main floor the khas, the proper term to call for the group of guests was feasting, drinking, dancing and fighting. What baffles me were the women practically naked, covered in blue paint as they dance around until a warrior takes them freely in the open. I tried to avoid watching this, having a conversation with either of the me.

Food was presented to the newlyweds, as they accept the dishes or reject. What they refused is offered to rest of the participants at the feast. Khal Drogo accepting a dish what looked like animal hearts lather in…blood. Once the food is passed, I selected some edible cooked meals and took small bites. Although, Viserys and I mainly drank wine. Wasn't long when the gifts were being presented of the forty lords, acquaintances to Magister Illyrio and Khal Drogo. Some gifts were reasonable, from gold, silver, exotic herbs, and animals. Viserys event presented his gifts of handmaidens he purchased. One man even came up with a box of snakes.

"When do I meet with the Khal?" Viserys asked. "We need to begin planning the invasion."

"If Khal Drogo has promised you a crown, you shall have it," Illyrio answered.

"When?" Viserys asked.

"When their omens favor war," Illyrio answered.

"I piss on Dothraki omens," Viserys muttered. "I've waited seventeen years to get my throne back."

"How long does the feast last?" I asked quietly, unsettle in the environment we were in.

"A Dothraki wedding can last for hours or even an entire day. Depending on when the Khal or his blood riders are done celebrating," the Prince of Pentos answered.

I took a deep breath and a gulp of wine.

Viserys took my hand, "I assure you, tonight will be different."

_Then again, let's continue the feast,_ I thought.

I paid more attention to the music, watching the drummers pounding away to the rhythm. Until one woman who was on her hands and knees is taken from behind. Her partner pounding away into her as she pushes back wailing in pleasure. One warrior came over, separating the two and pull out his penis starting to fuck her. The first warrior was not pleased, beginning a fight both their dicks out. Punches were thrown, knocking things down, while the khalasar gathered around cheering them on. Wasn't long when swords…arakh were drawn. That is when the second warrior slashed the blade across the first warrior abdomen and sliced him open. Entrails fell as the fallen rider collapsed to his knees while the second cut off his braid tossing it into the air. The wedding guest both Dothraki and Free Cities cheered.

Viserys and I sat there horrified while Magister Illyrio and the Prince of Pentos applauded.

The older man leans over to us, "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair."

Viserys laughed while I shook my head keeping my mouth shut.

The feast continued onward for another hour when a man presented his gift. He was someone not from Essos or these parts. For a moment, I thought he was Braavosi, having fair skin and hair, most importantly, his attire was Westerosi. Remembering Ser Willem wearing similar clothing to his. He walked up the steps of holding books.

"_Jadi, zhey Jorah andahli_!" Khal Drogo greeted.

"_Khal vezhven_," the man said with a bow steeping forward. "A small gift, for the new Khaleesi—songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys accepted his gift, "Thank you, Ser. Are you from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," he introduced himself. "I served your father for many years. Gods are good, I hope to always serve the rightful king." As he glanced at Viserys.

Ser Jorah gave a bow and went to join the Esso guest. Magister Illyrio waved his hand, as two servants came over carrying a decorative case. They lifted the lid, presenting three eggs. My eyes widen never seeing three dragon eggs before. All in their different colors of green, black, and bronze. Daenerys was astonished, as she picked up the green egg.

"Dragon's eggs, Daenerys, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai." Magister Illyrio presented. "The ages of turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful."

"Thank you, Magister," Daenerys said.

He smiled before sitting down. Viserys was surprised wondering what else Illyrio Mopatis is hiding under his sleeves? Khal Drogo stood up, causing the music to stop. Daenerys realized this, set the dragon egg down, and stood up. He started walking down the steps with his bride right behind him. Viserys, Illyrio, and I stood up to join them. Seeing a gather at the end of the feast where two horses waited. One was brown while the other solid white. Khal Drogo held the reins and looked at his Khaleesi offering his gift. Daenerys was surprised, as she stepped forward betting the horse.

"She's beautiful," Daenerys told him.

Khal Drogo stared at her.

Daenerys turned facing the Andal, "Ser Jorah, I – I don't know how to say "thank you" in Dothraki."

"There is no word for "thank you" in Dothraki," Ser Jorah explained.

Khal Drogo approached her, as he placed his hands on her waist and lifted up onto her horse. He then got on his own. Viserys came over to her, saying something. Reading his lips, he said, "Make him happy." Daenerys took a deep breath before she and her husband took off to a disclose location where they will consummate their marriage.

I stood there watching them leave feeling like I have failed her. I have sworn to protect her, keep Dany safe from the cruel world we live in. Now, in a feudal society where women are property, she loses her virginity to a warlord. I always imagine her to have gentle consummation in a room of comfort. No…that is not the Dothraki way. I did my best to educate her on what she will expect when her husband claims her. The pain of her maidenhead rupture that will make her a woman. What might happen when his seeds soak her womb. I took a deep breath trying not to imagine what will happen.

Viserys came over wrapping his arms around me, "Why don't you return to the palace?"

The feast was still going even when the newlyweds have departed. Uncomfortable from the environment, I nodded as the guards escorted me to the palanquin. Personally, I rather ride on a horse to get out of here faster. But in the state of dress, I am unable too. So kindly saying goodbye to the Prince of Pentos, I was carried back to Magister Illyrio's estate. Although, just as I turned my head, I caught a glance of Ser Jorah Mormont looking at me with his blue eyes.

**.o0o.**

Once back to the palace, I went straight to my chambers having a bath made immediately. I understand that the Dothraki have their own culture. Their own traditions of how a wedding from ceremony and reception is presented. However, there are some things that are meant in a bedchamber. Behind closed doors.

When the bath was ready, I stripped out of my clothes and removed the jewelry before getting into the bath. I took a sponge and started washing the sweat and dirt off my skin. Afterward, I soaked in the water. Unable to hold it in, my eyes water causing tears to fall. I should have fought harder for Daenerys. Talk with Magister Illyrio in private to find someone better. Someone of a different culture who is more compatible. Khal Drogo and Daenerys are on the opposites ends of the spectrum in society. Seeing all that violence at the wedding…makes me fear for her safety even more.

Viserys said the Dothraki warriors fight constantly. So maybe, Khal Drogo will die in battle and free Daenerys from her marital duties. It will cost us an army, but at least my sweet sister won't be exposed to such brutality and degrading environment. Realizing my face was red and eyes puffy, I had to fix myself before Viserys arrives. Removing the pins out of my hair, I dunk my head in hot water to resolve it. Afterward, I sat up and breathe.

I want to go home as any of my siblings do. However, what was home to Viserys is entirely opposite from mine. Ever since my birth, I was kept away because Father's paranoia. Afraid someone will poison me. The only place that felt like home was Braavos. Back to the house with the red door. We were a family there, Ser Willem as our surrogate father. Closing my eyes, I could envision it, the rooms were large, one in particular had great wooden beams with carved animal faces adorning them. The lemon trees that grew around the gardens. Dany and I climbing the tree, Viserys tossing lemons at us in his game. We were happy, or at least for Dany and I. Deep down King's Landing was Viserys home.

The sound of the door open, "Alysanne!"

"In here, Viserys!" I called out.

Viserys entered the bathing chambers and smirked, "Washing away the filthy wedding off your skin. Good, wouldn't want my wife to smell like horse shit."

"It has been a long day," I murmured.

"One that will give us our armies, as long as Khal Drogo keeps his word," Viserys said, as he began to strip. "I've noticed you had the servants set up a meal for us."

"I'd had a feeling the Dothraki cuisine won't be to your liking," I said. "I ordered your favorite."

Viserys smirked, "Aren't you considerate."

"Anything for you," I forced myself to say.

"Come here," he murmured.

I took a deep breath and got out of the bath until standing before him. Lilac eyes gazed upon my form. My body is slender, almost boney in a specific region. My breast slightly large due to the previous pregnancy. Viserys used to comment that there was something to gain from the loss. He lifted his hand and cupped my breast causing me to gasp. A smirk kissed his lips.

"I was thinking, since our brother-in-law custom has a way in intercourse, we should give it a try," he murmured, wrapping his other arm around me grasping my bum. "What do you say?"

"If you want to give it a try, we can," I mumbled.

Usually, our positions were him on top or I am. There were other positions, but to be taken from behind like some animal is…unsettling. But I have to do what I can to appease the dragon. With Daenerys gone, all his attention will be on me. One mistake and you will never know if he'll lash out. It has been a month since he last put his hand on me out of anger.

Viserys smirked doing something unpredicted as he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. He laughed at my shock before dropping me on the bed.

"Would you like to eat first?" I offered, delaying the inevitable.

"After the first course," he said, stripping the rest of his clothes until he stood naked.

Not a second later he tackled me on the bed lips crashing into mine claiming dominance. I try to kiss back, wrapping my arms around him feeling his back. Remembering where he likes to be touch. It's best to get his urges over with so it can be done. Ignoring the hard touches, roughly grabbing and groping me. Suddenly he flipped me over and forced me on my hands and knees. Not a second later slipping his fingers inside to get me wet. I gasped, touching that small spot aroused me, yet he stopped when I became wet. Denying me my pleasure.

Not long after, he took his member and shoved it inside in one hard thrust. I cried out, not expecting it, grabbing the sheets as he thrust away. I closed my eyes trying to gain any pleasure from it. The moment I started to feel something, Viserys grabbed my hair yanking it hard. I cried out in pain, gasping each time he tugged my hair. Viserys didn't realize this, grunting and groaning as one hand pulled my hair and the smacked my bum hard repeatedly. After that I zoned out, let my mind go blank and let him do as he pleases. A trick I learn to ignore the sense of lust, pleasure, most importantly pain. My body still feeling him pounding away, his touches arousing it, yet I felt nothing.

It wouldn't be until he came did I return to my senses. Viserys panted, falling to the side of the bed panting utterly satisfied. I laid down grabbing the sheets to cover myself. My head and ass feeling sore from being pulled and spank. He didn't realize my discomfort, as he turned to face me.

"Maybe the Dothraki had something going," Viserys murmured. "Dominating a woman like that."

I merely nodded.

"Did you like it?" he asked.

"It…it was different," I answered.

"But you don't like it," he concluded.

"It's hard to like something after one try," I confessed.

That made him smirk, "Good."

His stomach grumbles ending the conversation. He chuckled as he got up to grab food that was waiting on the table. Out of sight, I rubbed my eyes to prevent tears from falling.

"Alysanne, come now before the food spoils!" Viserys playfully said.

I sighed, feeling disgusted inside. Knowing this was wrong, yet it was normal because I am a Targaryen. And a Targaryen must stay pure. But deep down…I rather break tradition and be loved. I want to be cherished, not an obligation. The only way I could be free from this eternal nightmare is one of us were dead.

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Across the Grass Sea

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M**_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Across the Grass Sea**

The consummation was a success.

My Sweet sister Daenerys is now a Khaleesi.

Not long after the wedding, did Khal Drogo wanted to leave Pentos to Vaes Dothrak. It was the Dothraki sacred city, the one place they all go to. Khal Drogo wanted to present his wife to the Dosh Khaleen and other Khals. Magister Illyrio offered his hospitality to Viserys and me, to wait for Khal Drogo to give his share of the bargain. Viserys refused, stating he wants to make sure Drogo follows through. Illyrio suggests I remained in Pentos where I would be safe. But once more, Viserys was being stubborn wanting to keep the family together. At least we were provided horses, supplies, and generous riding gear.

It was a long humid journey. Daenerys asked me to ride alongside her which I did. It won't be until night or when the Khalasar decided to make camp where we would have to join our husbands. We could see it in each other's eyes neither of us wants to be with them. For every night our husbands take us. Viserys is determined to produce an heir. I wished there's time for me to go to a market and purchase some tonics. Back at Magister Illyrio's palace, the servants whispered about a potion that can prevent pregnancy for a short period. Sadly, with the Khalasar leaving after the wedding…there was no time. I could only pray that the gods prevent me from conceiving.

We stopped to watch the Dothraki walk or ride their horses through the grasslands. Neither exhausted from the hours-long journey. No doubt all evolve to have longer endurance. There were a few things though that bother me. Seeing people in rope. Slaves. The practice of slavery appalls me. In many of the Free Cities. Remembering our stay in Volantis, where slaves are mark with tattoo on their faces by their specific craft. The worse being a teardrop as a sign of prostitution.

Ser Jorah who joined the journey to serve the King came over.

"You need to drink, child, and eat," Ser Jorah told Daenerys. He reached for his satchel pulling out dry meat and handed it to her.

Daenerys tried not to express her disgust, "Isn't there anything else?"

"The Dothraki have things in abundance: grass and horses. People can't live on grass." Ser Jorah replied.

Daenerys tried to eat the dry meat. I held my balance and search for any provisions Magister Illyrio provided. I found some seeded bread. Mainly a mixture of edible seeds, oats, and herbs. I handed it over which Daenerys accepted and began to eat. It doesn't taste great, but it's better than horseflesh. Ser Jorah noticed this act. Seeing how sore and exhausted we were from days of riding.

"In the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are fields of ghost grass with stalks as pale as milk that glows in the night. It murders all other grass. The Dothraki believe that one day it will cover everything – that's the way the world will end," Ser Jorah said.

Khal Drogo rode by not noticing our presence. Daenerys looked at him till petrified what happen during the consummation.

"It'll get easier," I told her.

Daenerys sighed, as she rode off to join her husband. I watched her go seeing how strong she has become. So far there are no marks on her body that I could see other than the blisters forming on her palm from holding the reins tightly. She hasn't told me what happened during her consummation or how he treats her. I can only assume based on her reactions and appearance on her body.

"She is strong," Ser Jorah said.

"That she is," I agreed. "Stronger than me."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I answered.

Ser Jorah stared at me, till his eyes linger on the part of my exposed back near my hip where a bruised from. An impression of a handprint could be seen, where Viserys grabbed me roughly during intercourse. Adjusting my dress, I took off to join my brother-husband.

**.o0o.**

We reached a camp where the rest of Khal Drogo Khalasar resided. There were many tents and huts made of wood and animal skin. Women tending the fire in prepping dinner, skinning animals, or tanning. Children were all about, as daughters carried water from the streams and sons either playing or carving. It seems peaceful as if this was normal in the environment, they lived in.

When the group stopped, Viserys got off his horse and came over to help me. I winced, extremely saddle sore, yet did not express my discomfort. Looking ahead, I saw Ser Jorah helping Daenerys off her horse while her three handmaidens rushed in to attend her needs. Viserys gestured us to where the tent would be.

"We're still not far from Pentos, Your Grace," Ser Jorah said. "Magister Illyrio has extended his hospitality. You'd be more comfortable there."

Viserys removed his riding gloves, "I have no interest in hospitality or comfort. I'll stay with Drogo until he fulfills his end of the bargain and I have my crown."

"As you wish, Your Grace," Ser Jorah said.

"Well, Mormont, as brutish as this life is, I suppose it is preferable to beheading." Viserys murmured. "What did Ned Stark want you for? Buying from a slaver?"

"Selling to one – some poachers I caught on my land," Ser Jorah confessed.

Viserys laughed, "Under my reign, you won't be punished for such nonsense. You can rest assured of that."

Nothing else to say, the dragon left leaving me with the exiled knight. I was surprised, for I was given the expression he was a traveler not a man in exile. He looked down ashamed from how his passed presented itself.

"Do you regret it?" I asked.

"I do, my lady," Ser Jorah answered. "You do things out of love until realizing it was never loved, but to make that person happy when you barely have nothing in an illusion."

"Expensive wife?" I asked.

"Aye, a Lady from the Reach," he answered.

"Tyrell?" I assumed.

Ser Jorah shook his head, "Hightower."

I nodded assuming he doesn't want to discuss any more of his wife. Excusing myself, I went to the tent that was arranged. Viserys was not pleased, complaining about the smell and limited furnishing. I had to bite my tongue from saying we were traveling and it will get better once we reach the Vaes Dothrak. Thinking of a way to make this slightly better, I lit some several fragrant candles and incense. This seemed to please him enough to calm down.

"Is there anything you want me to mend?" I offered.

Viserys thought about it, till tossing me his tunic. It was the same tunic from the wedding. He wanted to wear his royal garment to remind the Dothraki he was a king. Although, they were not suitable for travel or this weather. Keeping my mouth shut, I pulled out my sewing kit and began to mend the tunic.

Over the next few weeks, I try to understand the Dothraki culture and their language. There was one woman who Viserys bought name Irri. She is originally Daenerys handmaiden, but my sister was generous in sharing her handmaidens except for one. Apparently, Doreah had joined the travel. Seeing my brother-husband mistress for the first time. Seeing her for the first time was strange, a complete opposite from me. She had long brown hair, hazel eyes, fair skin, and held curves. I've also noticed parts of her bare skin seeing no mark on her. How is it she's caress by Viserys yet I am the one bruised?

Anyway, Irri tried her best to explain the Dothraki culture. She told me how the moon is a goddess, the wife of the sun. She also told me how Daenerys was doing. My sister being distance, yet Irri explained she has been recovering from the long journey. Also, notice a chance between the Khaleesi and Khal Drogo. No longer was she hesitant around her husband. When I was summoned to the Khal's tent seeing Daenerys smile. She was no longer wearing the Pentos attire but a woven top, hide skirt, and a golden belt.

"Is there a reason for that smile?" I asked.

"Yes," Daenerys answered. "Drogo is respectful of me."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said.

"How is Viserys?" she asked.

"Nonstop complaining," I answered. "Mainly for the smell."

"And has he…"

"He wants a child," I said. "Best to close my eyes and get on with it."

"But you don't want a child," she said.

"Not right now," I confessed. I do want to have children, but I don't want Viserys children. Afraid how far inbreeding can do to an infant. But sooner or later, Viserys get's what he wants.

"Have you told him?" She asked.

I gave her a hard look. Telling Viserys will be a punch to the face. Daenerys realized this and apologize. I sighed walking over and cradle her cheek.

"No need to worry about me," I told her. "Right now, focus on yourself. You got out."

Daenerys nodded, as she gave me a hug. I hugged her back, savoring this moment knowing when the time comes to sail home and Viserys conquest we go our separate ways.

**.o0o.**

The journey continues for Vaes Dothrak.

The Khalasar travel through a forest of bamboo. Never have I seen such plants. All green in cylinder form with rings. The winds blew bending them yet they remain strong. Daenerys and I were in awe, as her Khas, protector Rakharo followed behind and Irri walking beside us. Not long after Ser Jorah joined our company. We were still curious, as we asked questions about the Dothraki. Although, on our travels we've noticed the difference between who was Dothraki and who was a slave.

"Do the Dothraki buy their slaves?" Daenerys asked curiously.

"The Dothraki don't believe in money," Ser Jorah answered. "Most of their slaves were given to them as gifts."

"From whom?" I asked.

"If you rule a city and you see the horde approaching, you have two choices: pay tribute or fight. An easy choice for most. Of course, sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes a Khal feels insulted by the number of slaves he's given. He might think the men too weak or the women too ugly. Sometimes a Khal decides his haven't had a good fight in months and need the practice." Ser Jorah explained.

"_Kash goy goyi thira disse_! (Only while blood of my blood lives!)_"_ a Bloodrider yelled whipping at a slave who was carrying a large basket over his back. Many of the slaves were exhausted, needing a moment of rest.

"Tell them all to stop," Daenerys said.

"You want the entire horde to stop?" Ser Jorah asked. "For how long?"

Daenerys stopped her horse which the others did as well, as she said, "Until I command them otherwise."

"You're learning to talk like a queen," Ser Jorah noted.

"Not a queen," she said. "A Khaleesi."

It's shocking to see how fast my sweet sister was maturing since her marriage to Khal Drogo. Like the embers inside her soul are now set ablaze. Makes me feel proud and sad at the same time. Knowing Viserys hasn't broken her.

Daenerys jumped off her horse and went into the forest saying she needed a moment. I wasn't sure if she needed to relieve herself or a moment to think. The Khalasar waited, as Ser Jorah spoke in Dothraki to explain what is going on.

"_Annakhas dozgosores _(Stop the horde)." The Andal said.

We continued to wait. Until I got a bad feeling crept up my spine. Asking Irri and Rakharo to follow. Ser Jorah joined as well, as we rode through the bamboo forest until seeing Viserys holding Daenerys in a chokehold while pointing his sword at her. Rakharo galloped forward using a whip, snapped it around Viserys neck and yanked him away. Viserys fell to the ground grasping his throat, choking.

"_Hash shafka zali nharees, zhey khaleesi_? (Do you want him dead Khaleesi?)" Rakharo asked.

"Rakharo ask if you want him dead, Khaleesi?" Irri translated.

"No!" Daenerys and I yelled.

"_Ishish chare achareo has me nem ejervau nharesoon_. (Maybe the ear will listen if it is removed from the head.)" Rakharo recommended.

"Rakharo say you should take ear, to teach respect." Irri translated agreeing.

"Please, please, don't hurt him." Daenerys pleaded. She glances at Jorah and me, then said. "Tell him I don't want my brother harmed."

"_Khaleesi vos zalo meme nem azisa_. (Khaleesi, does not want him harmed.)" Irri told Rakharo.

"Huh?" Rakharo replied confused.

Irri gave him a look followed by a shrug. The warrior sighed muttering "_Shafki_," then loosen his whip freeing Viserys who was being suffocated. He gasped, panting rapidly to catch his breath. Around his neck was a red mark as bruising began to form. His lilac eyes narrow, knowing later I will be suffering the consequences after this. The waking of the dragon.

Viserys stood up, bellowing, "Mormont! Kill these Dothraki dogs!"

Ser Jorah glanced at Rakharo who stared cautiously. Ser Jorah Mormont earned his respect with the Dothraki. Traveling nearby and possibly fought alongside them. If not, him being an exiled knight, a trained swordsman. Here was Ser Mormont chance to prove where his loyalties lie. The men stare for a moment until facing Viserys.

"I am your King!" Viserys exclaimed.

"Shall we return to the Khalasar, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked my sister.

This surprised us Targaryens. Then again, Daenerys was a Khaleesi, with her husband she has more power over the Dothraki in Drogo's Khalasar. Meanwhile, Viserys only had a name, the same as I. We hold no power, just a name, and bloodline. Daenerys nodded, as she walked over to her horse that Ser Jorah brought with him. Irri came over, helping her lady onto the white mare. She looked at me, expressing her apologies knowing I will have to tame Viserys wrath once we make camp. I merely nodded suggesting they go.

Viserys growled, picking up his custom sword walking over to his horse. However, Rakharo took custody of the reins.

"Uh uh uh uh uh," Rakharo said. "You walk."

The Warrior started leaving with Viserys horse. My brother-husband approach me, about to climb on when he cries out in pain falling to the ground. Behind Viserys Rakharo had his whip retracted after snapping it on the Dragon's bum.

"Walk," Rakharo repeated, as he came over taking hold of the reins of my horse and escorted me out.

I looked over my shoulder seeing Viserys glaring at me.

**.o0o.**

When the Khalasar made camp and the tent was made, Viserys grabbed my hair and pulled me inside. Even in Dothraki culture, women were still lesser beings, only rank higher than a slave. So, no one came to help me, as Viserys threw me to the ground straddle my waist and began to smack me hard. I tried to cover my face from the blows, turning to the side to limit the damage.

"How dare she wake the dragon!" Viserys yelled. "How dare you not support me. I am your brother-husband!"

A hard smack with his ring struck my temple. I cried, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do!"

"You will pay for your lack of obedience," Viserys growled.

He ripped the bottom of my dress forcing my legs apart with one hand and leg while keeping his other on my neck. I struggle to escape, yet the grasp on my neck made it difficult. Viserys pulled his dick out and thrust himself inside me. I cried, being unprepared for the intrusion. He thrust rapidly, pounding away while hunching over grabbing my body. It hurt that I closed my eyes and bit my lip. Going back to the sunken place.

Once Viserys was done, he stood up correcting himself. I laid their opening my eyes staring at the small gap between the tent and ground. Seeing many feet who heard but did nothing. Feeling alone in this world, having no one there to support me. All disgusted inside, I sat up not looking at Viserys.

"Permission to clean myself?" I mumbled.

Viserys paused seeing the state I was in. "Yes, and if anyone asks- "

"I fell off my horse," I finished.

"Good," he murmured walking over to the cot.

I gather a rag, and slowly made my way out of the tent and went to the waterhole. Having my hair down, masking my swollen face and search for somewhere private. Finding a secluded area, behind some bushes I took sanctuary to wash myself. Damping the rag, and scrubbing my skin hard, especially in my private attempting to wipe away the semen. I whimpered in how sore and tender I was.

Nearly two months of traveling, every other night when the Khalasar make camp does Viserys take me to produce an heir. However, this was not pressured sex. No, once more I was raped again. Just the same when I was fifteen and spoke about survival, to give up our claimant and marry other people. Now I was raped because I could do nothing against Rakharo who was protecting his Khaleesi. At least Dany is in good hands, and not trap with an impulsive dragon.

When I was done, I secured my gown and started to make my way back to hell. Slowly to delay from seeing him. Suddenly my foot tripped on a rock falling to the ground scraping my hands and knee.

"My lady, are you all right," a person asked touching my arm.

I stumbled away not wanting to be touch, seeing the person was Ser Jorah. His eyes widened seeing the swelling forming on my face.

"Alysanne, what happened?" he asked placing his hand on my shoulder that I flinched away.

"I fell off my horse," I answered.

Ser Jorah scowled, "How many times has he lay a hand on you."

I stared into his blue eyes, "More than a lifetimes' worth."

"No man should harm his wife," Ser Jorah said.

"We are nothing but property. Our husbands can do as they please," I managed to say before leaving.

I return to my tent seeing Viserys had fallen asleep, hogging the rest of the cot. Unable to forgive him, I glance at the two swords hanging on the post. I walked over to the post taking the Targaryen sword unsheathing it. I glance at the blade, made of Valyrian Steel, as it was simple except for the pommel holding a dragon's head. Gripping the handle, glancing at Viserys deep in slumber as if nothing happened. All the emotions were piling up, hands shaking as I came over ready to stab him.

I had enough. I'm sick and tired of this abuse. Knowing Dany was in good hands, after two months of learning about the Dothraki. They were brutal, yes, but they are loyal and what Daenerys has told me how Khal Drogo has been treating her…then I should end this madness. Viserys…my dear brother Viserys died when Ser Willem died. No longer will I take the pain. I raised the sword aiming towards his chest taking a deep breath.

Only to stop, stepping away covering my mouth. What am I doing? Quickly and quietly, I sheathed the sword and left the tent. Just as I left, I collided into another person. I stepped back to apologize until looking up seeing it was Khal Drogo. He stared at me his face neutral yet eyes linger at my face and attire. I stepped aside thinking he wanted to have a word with Viserys, although none of his translators were with him. Instead, he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the tent.

Confused and frightened, trying to muster some Dothraki words to tell him to let go. He ignored me as he dragged me through the camp until coming up the center where the Khal and Khaleesi resign. The first thought was that he was going to rape me. That is until he took me to a tent next to his where Daenerys was. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki which Daenerys replied in gratitude. He solely nodded and left.

I was confused, wondering what is going on.

Daenerys came over placing a hand on me, but I pulled back. Her eyes widened seeing the condition I was in. Seeing the marks and dress ripped.

"Alysanne…I'm so sorry. I should've had Rakharo watched over you," Daenerys said softly.

"It would've prolonged the inevitable," I whispered.

"Did he…"

"Yes," I confirmed.

She scowled, for she has seen Viserys raping me before, even the first time. And always witness his assaults that leave bruises. There was nothing she can do about it. I was Viserys sister-wife, I was bound to him like any wife. I obey and serve, and if I do wrong, I will be punished that he sees fits. Let's not forget that Viserys also gave Daenerys away so she could wed Khal Drogo.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

"This is your tent," Daenerys answered.

"What?" I asked confused.

"You have done so much for me…protecting me from Viserys. I'm a Khaleesi now, I can protect you." Daenerys answered. "Please let me help you. Tonight, will be the last night he lays a hand on you."

I took a deep breath feeling my walls crumble as I collapsed onto my knees and sobbed. Daenerys rushed over embracing me. So long I thought I was alone in this constant battle against Viserys. Fighting a losing battle to protect Daenerys. Now, my sweet sister wants to protect me.

**.o0o.**

Several days have passed in the camp. Viserys trying to get close to me in order to produce an heir. However, the warriors who were assigned to Daenerys, known as Khas are Rakharo, Aggo, and Kovarro prevented him from coming near the tent. Another blessing was that I bleed again, confirming I am not with child. Even in this hell the gods still answer to small prays.

During this time, I spend it with Daenerys as she learns Dothraki from Irri. The handmaiden was braiding her hair teaching us the word "pride" in Dothraki. Jhiqui sat behind me braiding my hair as well. With my belongings in Viserys tent, I was provided with clothes and necessities. As I wore a skirt and a wrapped top that seems appropriate for the weather. The far east we go the hotter the climate has become.

"At jakar?" Daenerys said.

"_Athjahakar_," Irri corrected.

"Ath ja haker," Daenerys tried again.

"_Athjahakar_," Irri repeated slowly.

"_Athjahakar_," Daenerys said.

Irri smiled, "Yes, Khaleesi."

Suddenly the woman touched Daenerys breast startling her.

My sister gave a nervous laugh, "Oh, what are you doing?"

"When was last time you bleed, Khaleesi?" Irri asked.

I looked at Daenerys noticing her breast has indeed grown the past several weeks and gain some weight. During the travels, none of her saddles or clothes are covered in blood since the Dothraki have no hygiene methods for flowering. They merely let it flow.

I leaned over taking her hand, "You're a mother now."

Irri nodded placing her hand on Daenerys stomach, speaking in her native tongue, _"Me azhasavva vezhofoon._ (It's a blessing from the Great Stallion.)"

Daenerys nodded looking at he shocked in the revelation. At least her child won't be plagued with madness. Every time a Targaryen marries an outsider and has a child, it breaks the cycle. The child will have dragons' blood but will have a lesser chance if not any of the madness.

**.o0o.**

_Ser Jorah POV_

Ser Jorah was in his tent with Rakharo. They were having a simple conversation over the difference in culture. Ever since befriending Khal Drogo's Khalasar, Rakharo has been coming over to learn of the Westerosi culture. Ser Jorah examined Rakharo arakh, a hook-like sword.

"For a man on horseback, the curved blade is a good thing, easier to handle," Jorah said. "It's a good weapon for a Dothrakan. But a man in full plate – _shori tawakof_ the _arakh_ won't get through the steel." He handed Rakharo blade back and grabbed his own sword, taking it out of its sheath. "That's where the broadsword has the advantage. Designed for piecing plate." Demonstrating it with his hand.

"_Dothraki don't wear steel dresses_," Rakharo said.

"Armor," Ser Jorah corrected.

"Armor," Rakharo repeated. "Armor make a man..._Vroz_?"

"Slow," Ser Jorah translated.

"Slow," Rakharo repeated.

"It's true, but it also keeps a man alive," Ser Jorah explained.

"_My father taught me how to fight. He taught me that speed defeats size._" Rakharo informed.

"_I've heard that your father was a famous rider_," Ser Jorah complimented.

"_He was bloodrider to Khal Bharbo_," Rakharo said.

Jorah grew silent, for when a Khal dies, his bloodriders must prepare his body for a funeral. Once his body is turned to dust for the Night Sky, the bloodriders have to finish his task before killing themselves to be with their Khal. Usually, the final mission is taking the Khal's Khaleesi to Vaes Dothrak to be one of the Dosh Khaleen. If his Khal were murder, the Bloodriders would have to avenge his death before joining him in the afterlife.

"_And your father, Jorah the Andal? He was a warrior also_?" Rakharo asked.

"He still is," Jorah answered sadly. "A man of great honor and I betrayed him."

Rakharo was surprised by this.

Irri entered the tent looking for Rakharo.

"_The Khaleesi wants to eat something different tonight_," Irri said. "_Kill some rabbit_."

"_There are no rabbits_," Rakharo said.

"_Find some ducks, she likes ducks,"_ Irri ordered.

Rakharo scuffed, "_Have you seen any ducks, woman? No rabbits, no ducks. Do you have eyes in your head? Do you?"_

"_Dog then_." Irri snapped. "_I have seen many dogs_."

"I don't think she wants to eat dog," Ser Jorah inserted himself into the conversation. Making the khas chuckle.

"The Khaleesi have baby inside her," Irri explained. "It is true. She does not bleed for two moons. Her belly starts to swell."

"_A blessing from the Great Stallion,"_ Rakharo prayed.

"She does not want to eat horse," Irri sneered.

Ser Jorah was surprised by the news. Ever since he went into exile and his wife, Lynesse abandoning him for another, all he could think about was going home. Over his years of travel as a sellsword, he encountered one of Varys's little birds. The Little Bird told him if the Exile Knight brings worthy information, he can be pardon of his crimes and return home to Bear Island, and even a divorce.

When the Targaryens came to Pentos, under Magister Illyrio protection, he watched from afar sending word to the Little Bird there. For many months he observed the three dragons living their lives, seeing Viserys socializing with other Magisters and powerful men while his two siblings Alysanne and Daenerys remain quiet. He saw them through the Pentos market with guards, seeing the girls smile and laugh, completely different people when not around their brother. However, during his spying, he also saw how Viserys treats them…primarily Alysanne. On rare occasion has he seen the Beggar King strike his wife. And yet she does not shed a tear. Also, he has read her body language, seeing her tense and force a smile.

Over the months he got to know the Targaryen sisters. Daenerys being childlike and sweet, while Alysanne was motherly, protective. Two curious women, willing to learn in a strange new world. Ser Jorah felt sorry for them, since he fought both sides during the war. Serving the Targaryens until obeying his father to come North and serve the liege House Stark. His father Jeor Mormont abdicated himself after many years so Jorah could be Lord of Bear Island. A disgrace when selling slaves to pay off his debts for Lynesse luxury. There are no other males left in House Mormont. Only his cousin Maege and her children. If he could give the news of Daenerys Targaryen, then he can go home and revive his House Name before extinction.

"I'll have the boys butcher a goat for supper," Ser Jorah announced.

Irri nodded in appreciation and left.

"I need to ride to Qohor," He announced standing up and sheathed his sword.

"Uh, we ride for Vaes Dothrak," Rakharo reminded.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you," Jorah promised. "The horse's easy to find."

He left his tent making way towards his horse. As he walked, he spotted Alysanne sitting by her hut near the open fire sewing. The Exile Knight paused, seeing her bruises mare her skin healing. Several days ago, after seeing Viserys attacking Daenerys, he knew the man was not worthy of being a king. Especially laying a hand on a woman. So, when the Khalasar made camp, and hours later he saw Alysanne limping and fall, he came to help her like a gentleman. Until she retracted from his touch and seeing the swelling on her face. In her indigo eyes, he saw pain and tears. The same expression slave women in Volantis held.

_No man should lay a hand on his wife out of anger,_ Jorah thought.

Fearing for the young woman's life, he asked Khal Drogo by any chance he could provide his sister-in-law a hut close to her sister. Daenerys who heard the discussion asked as well. Khal Drogo rare on specific request obliged, having a hut beside his wife's and personally brought Alysanne over. For a time, the dragoness was safe. Although, how long when Ser Jorah gives this vital news to Varys.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Vaes Dothrak

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: Warning this chapter is rated M**_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Vaes Dothrak**

After a week Viserys came over to apologize for striking me. For him to apologize was rare, and knowing my brother-husband, he doesn't mean it. Not since we were children did, he ever meant his apologies. So, when he came to me to apologize, I knew it was his way to get me back in bed, to impregnate me. I told him no, which he growled but stopped when Aggo gave him a warning glare. His second attempt was returning my small property, my clothes, and jewelry. Again, it does not bring him back to my bed. How can I forgive him after he raped me as punishment for something I had no control over? He decided to harm the Khalasar's Khaleesi. He should be thankful that Daenerys allowed him to live instead of punishing me.

Seeing how far I was close to murdering Viserys, I had enough. I was taking a stand for myself. What happened was the final straw and Daenerys helped me realize it. Even if Viserys and I are married, I will have control over my body. Not him. He has his mistress, let him fuck her. I am done.

So, during our travels through the Dothraki Sea, I joined my sister near the front of the horde. Even had the opportunity to get to know my brother-in-law. Khal Drogo though aggressive and masculine around his warriors…he can be…nice inside the tent. He has a slight sense of humor too, although when translated it doesn't make sense. But his body langue makes it seem funny since he hardly breaks his neutral expression unless in a battle.

During the travels, I noticed Ser Jorah was absent. Rakharo explained Ser Jorah the Andal had to go to Qohor to send a message. I found this strange, wondering why would he send a message if he was an exiled knight. With Aggo by my side, we went to see Viserys might know about this. My brother-husband was not fazed by Ser Jorah's absence. Assuming Ser Jorah was sending a message to Pentos for Magister Illyrio updating him on our whereabouts. It seemed logical, but the man could have told us in person. Two weeks later Jorah returned with fresh supplies. What surprised me was when he came to my tent with a gift. It was a surcoat, in burgundy with small embroidery details of desert flowers.

"Why?" I asked.

"I recall some of your dresses were ripped," Ser Jorah said. "Forgive me if it's not enough."

"It's enough," I assure him. "Thank you."

I put the surcoat on and fasten the sides feeling more decent now. No longer did the warriors stared at me with lustful eyes. Viserys from a distance also seemed pleased in modesty. Still, it was strange that Ser Jorah would be gracious enough to give me such a humble gift. Considering businesses on the coast can be expensive. Either way, I am thankful for what he has done since most of my dresses have been ripped by Viserys.

**.o0o.**

After what could possibly be three months of traveling from Pentos through Ghoyan Drohe, Novos, Qohor, Vaes Khadokh, and the Dothraki Sea we finally made it to Vaes Dothrak. The environment changing to be more civil, in what could possibly be a road lead a trail to two tall statues of stallions. I was fascinated, never considering the Dothraki were able to carve such statues that I could compare it to the Titan of Braavos.

Khal Drogo and his bloodrider immediately gave a battle cry before galloping ahead towards the city. I chuckled, reminding me of adolescent men wanting to race to the finish line. Daenerys watched amazed in the change between the Khalasar from the fields to their city.

"Vaes Dothrak – the city of the horselords." Ser Jorah said.

"A pile of mud," Viserys scoffed. "Mud and shit and twigs – Best these savages can do."

"These are _my_ people now," Daenerys scolded. "You shouldn't call them savages."

"I'll call them what I like because they're _my_ people." Viserys sneered. "This is my army. Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way with my army."

"Ever consider the majority of the army is here and we are collecting them," I said.

Viserys paused realizing he never thought about that. Khal Drogo was the Great Khal, making him the King of the Dothraki. So, what are the chances are that he needed to fetch the other Khals and their Khalasar to increase the numbers? My brother-husband scowled and started riding off ahead. We gave him some distance before Daenerys lead the rest of the Khalasar towards the city.

"If my brother _was_ given an army of Dothraki, could you conquer the Seven Kingdoms?" Daenerys asked Ser Jorah.

"The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea. The fear any water their horses can't drink." Ser Jorah answered.

"But if they did?" Daenerys asked.

Ser Jorah paused, "King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle, but the men advising him are different."

"And you know these men?" I asked.

"I fought beside them once, long ago." He answered. "Now Ned Stark wants my head. He drove me from my land."

"You sold slaves," I reminded.

"Aye," he agreed.

"Why?" Daenerys asked.

"I had no money and an expensive wife." He answered.

"And where is she now?" Daenerys asked.

"In another place, with another man," he answered.

Nothing was said after that. Once we reached the city, we were escorted to the sector where Khal Drogo's Khalasar resigned. It was a lush area of green, the huts and buildings more secured with architectural character.

**.o0o.**

_Viserys's POV_

Viserys took residence in the traveler's sector where the building appeared more civilize. Letting his sisters sleep in a hut not having a care. In his quarters he had a bath drawn, and scented candles lit all around. All he wanted is to wash the months' worth of filth off his body and lay in a good bed. Of course, being denied of his sister-wife's body to satisfied his needs, he pulled in his mistress Doreah to accompany him.

The woman of Lyse sat in front of him in the bath holding a sponge washing his body, "Your Grace?"

Viserys looked at her with a smile, "Yes, my dear?"

"They call you the last dragon … "

"They do."

"You have dragon's blood in your veins?" she asked tracing her finger along his chest.

"It's entirely possible," he answered enjoying where this conversation was going.

Doreah chuckled, "What happened to the dragons? I was told that brave men killed them all."

Viserys tilted her chin, "The brave men didn't kill dragons. The brave men rode them. Rode them from Valyria to build the greatest civilization this world has ever seen. The breath of the greatest dragon forged the Iron Throne, which the usurper is keeping warm for me." As he grabbed the candle near the tub is it close. "The swords of the vanquished, a thousand of them…melted together like so many candles."

"I have always wanted to see a dragon," Doreah murmured. "There is nothing in the world that I would rather see."

"Really. Why dragons?" he asked.

"They can fly." She answered. "And wherever they are, just a few flaps of their wings and they're somewhere else…far away. And they can kill." She took the candle from his hand. "Anyone or anything that tries to hurt them gets burned away to nothing…melted like so many candles."

Carefully she poured the wax onto his chest. Viserys gasped, feeling aroused by his mistress. Doreah, being perfect for him. Wanting to test the boundaries, wishing to pleasure him. If only she were a Targaryen, Velaryon, or a pure Valyrian he would take her as his bride. Don't get him wrong, he is pleased in his sister-wife satisfying him, compliant in bed. But he finds her a bit of a prune.

"Ow," he playfully said.

"Yes," she murmured putting the candle away. "Seeing a dragon would make me very happy."

"Well, after fifteen years in a pleasure house, I imagine just seeing the sky makes you happy," he said, tucking a strand of hair off her face.

They both chuckled as Doreah replied, "I was not locked in. I have seen things."

"What have you seen?" he asked.

"I've seen…a man from Asshai with a dagger of real dragon glass," she answered.

"Ooh," he replied feeling her thighs.

"I've seen a man who could change his face the way that other men change their closes. And I've seen a pirate who wore his weight in gold, and whose ship had sails of colored silk." She continued, picking the wax of his chest. Her hazel eyes lingering to his lilac orbs. "So…have you seen one?"

Viserys was so enticed in her words, he didn't realize what she was asking, "A pirate ship?"

"A dragon," She said, playfully, moving closer that his member was between her legs. Pressing her nose against his smiling.

"No," he confessed. "No, the last one died many years before I was born."

Doreah pouted, slightly disappointed.

"I'll tell you what I have seen: their skulls." He added, lost in a memory. "They used to decorate the throne room in the Red Keep. When I was very young, just three or four, my father used to walk me down the rows, and I'd recite their names for him. When I got them all right, he'd give me a sweet. The ones closest to the door were the last ones they were able to hatch, and they were all stunted and wrong. Skulls no bigger than a dog skull. But as you got closer to the Iron Throne…they got bigger and bigger and bigger."

His hand slid under the water to Doreah mons rubbering between her folds until inserting his fingers, "There was Ghiscar and Valryon, Vermithrax, Essovius –"

Doreah gasped when he teased her clit.

"Archonei, Meraxes," he lifted her up and slide her down his member causing her to moan, "Vhaegar and Balerion the Dread…whose fire forged the Seven Kingdoms into one."

Viserys leaned up kissing her passionately, Doreah kissed back moving her hips with him still inside her. Her hands going through his hair. Lost in the moment and curious she then asked, "What happened to the skulls?"

Viserys stopped pulling back, "I don't know. The usurper had them smashed to powder, I expect." He kissed her, "Scattered to the wind."

They continued to kiss until she pulled away, "That's very sad."

"Yes, it is," Viserys said annoyed, no longer in a mood since it reminded him that his family is near extinction. He grabbed her wrist roughly. "What did I buy you for? To make me sad?"

"No, Your Grace," Doreah answered nervously. "To, uh, teach your sister."

"To teach my sister how to be a better lover?" He sarcastically replied. "You think I bought you to make '_Khal Drogo'_ happy?"

Doreah didn't know how to respond to that.

"Oh, you pretty little idiot.," Viserys said, with a scoff, leaning back in the tub. "Go on then. Get on with it."

Lifting his legs up jolting her to start moving. Doreah gasped, until realizing she upset the dragon. She has heard the phrase from Daenerys, and also seen the bruises on Alysanne along with what causes them. Not wanting to upset the king, she rested her hands on his shoulders and started moving her hips to pleasure him. Viserys didn't look at her, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling. Letting his mind wander to a small memory back in Pentos where he had sex with Alysanne. Of course, he slipped an aphrodisiac potion into her wine that he bought off from a merchant from Lys. Yet that was possibly the best affair they had. Starting from the bath all the way to the bed. Her skin smoothed as silk, flawless to his touch, her breast rounded and plump, sensitive to the touch while her face expressed pleasure. Viserys grew hard imagining it was Alysanne riding him until he finally came.

He opened his eyes staring into hazel eyes instead of indigo. A frown kissed his lips, as he forced Doreah off of him and got out of the bath. Drying off quickly, and putting on his clothes, then went to find his sister-wife. The Dragon won't deny that he can be rough with her, unable to control his strength and temper. But Alysanne brought a primal side to him, dominating with power when the rest of the world rejected him.

Cautiously he reached sector where his sisters would be. Hiding amongst the shadows till coming across the hut where Alysanne rest. He took behind, opening the flap to see what his sister-wife was doing. He spotted her, on her makeshift bed sewing. She wore her evening gown exposing her arms and cleavage, humming a song from their childhood. Viserys recognize the song being _Dance of the Dragons_, a ballad that told the story of two dying lovers admits the Doom of Valyria. These moments did Viserys see the real beauty of his sister-wife, feeling the guilt stirring inside him. Before their mother, Queen Rhaella went into labor she told Viserys to protect his sister. He did that until they come of age…and when Alysanne sold their mother's crown…everything just snapped. Survival was necessary, with a young Daenerys…but Viserys felt like it was an act of betrayal…the one thing he couldn't let go.

Taking a deep breath, known as King he needed his sister-wife on his side and produce an heir, he moved around to the entrance to get her back. However, he stopped hearing Dothraki heathens approaching. Quickly he hid behind another tent, watching Khal Drogo and Ser Jorah walking. The two were sharing a conversation, one that seemed humorous. Ser Jorah mentioned something that made Khal Drogo laughed, pounding the Andal's back that nearly knocked him down. The Exile Knight adjusted himself, as the two said goodnight. Drogo went into his hut, while Ser Jorah stood there glancing at Alysanne hut.

Viserys observed scowling, seeing the knight standing there listening to his sister-wife humming. Under the moonlight, the Dragon could see what he assumed was fancying Alysanne. That made Viserys angry, easy to get jealous at any man who dares holds interest to his sister-wife. Before he could step out to punch Ser Jorah in the face, the Exile Knight left the area.

Knowing he has to earn Alysanne trust back, he returned to his quarters.

.o0o.

_Alysanne's POV_

Daenerys wanted to rekindle the separation our family has become. She feels the stress of travel and the desire to be home was the cause of Viserys anger. A part of me would disagree. I feel like our brother had inherited our father's madness. Being young, the madness has taken the form of enraging impulses. Let alone the angry he has built up of people laughing at him, calling the beggar king. But I did not tell her this. Deep down, I thought it would be best to discuss our family history with Daenerys and explained that even though our ancestors came to Westeros under Conquest, they have done terrible things that lead to countless wars. There are two sides to a story, and I was afraid to tell her the dark side.

Anyway, Daenerys arranged a meal. She had her handmaidens go to the Western Market to fetch food that Viserys would like. Along with gifts, Doreah and Jhijui obliged while Irri remained to help Daenerys with sewing a new shirt for him made out of leather. My sweet sister tries hard to see the good in people. Even though there are some who can't be changed. Then again, I could be wrong.

When all is set, Doreah went to invite Viserys over for supper. I was not comfortable, feeling unease and stomach twisting. Wondering what Viserys will do in trying to get me back in bed or force me again. Not long after, Viserys barged in dragging Doreah and tossed her to the ground.

"You send this whore to give me commands?" Viserys yelled. "I should have sent you back her head!"

"Forgive me, Khaleesi. I did as you asked," Doreah wept, her cheek red and a split him.

"Hush now. It's all right." Daenerys said. "Irri, take her and leave us."

"Yes, Khaleesi," Irri said, standing up and collected Doreah before leaving.

"Why did you hit her?!" Daenerys asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You do not command me," Viserys growled.

"She wasn't commanding you," I said stepping in between. "We wanted to invite you to supper."

Viserys glanced seeing the Western cuisine until glancing at the trunk where gold and clothes were. "What's this?"

"It's a gift," Daenerys answered. "I had it made for you."

Viserys grabbed the leather vest, "Dothraki rags? Are you going to dress me now?"

"Please," Daenerys pleaded.

"This stinks' of manure," Viserys yelled throwing it at Daenerys, along with the gold medallions and jewels. "All of it."

A belt struck me, I gasped then got serious, "Stop Viserys –stop it!"

Viserys shoved me aside that I banged into the chest where the dragon eggs were. I gasped, from the shock of pain into my hip. Daenerys tried to rush over, but Viserys blocked her.

"You would turn me into one of them, wouldn't you? Next, you'll want to braid my hair." He sneered.

"You've no right to a braid. You've won no victories yet." Daenerys snapped.

"You do not talk back to me!" Viserys exclaimed, smacking her across the face knocking her down and continue to smack her. "You are a horselord's slut. And now you've woken the dragon—"

Thinking about her condition of being pregnant, I grabbed the closest object which was a walking staff and struck him hard in the back. Viserys gasped, turning around only I struck him again that added enough force to get him off Daenerys. She quickly scurries away standing behind me. Viserys stood up in shock.

"I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki!" Daenerys bellowed. "I am the wide of the great Khal, and I carry his son inside me. The next time you raised a hand to _us_ will be the last time you have hands. "

"Now get out!" I ordered.

"Alys…" He whispered bewildered, using my nickname.

"Get out!" I screamed, jabbing him in the chest that knocked him out of the hut. Through the tarp we saw him steady himself, glaring at us before leaving. I panted, then groaned feeling my pain in my side that I collapsed onto my knees.

"Alysanne," Daenerys said kneeling down to my level, lifting up my skirt to get a better look of my hip where it started to swell. "I will get Jhijui to fetch a healer."

I stopped her, getting a better look of her face seeing her cheek red but no sign of other severe injuries. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Daenerys said. "But what about you?"

I sighed, "I just signed my death warrant."

I struck Viserys with a staff. The impulse just happened, seeing Viserys attacking Daenerys that I saw red. I made a promise to protect my sister from harm. Even if it's from family. Either way, I fear Viserys will come up with his revenge and punish me severely.

"No, you haven't," Daenerys said, hugging me. "I won't let Viserys harm you again."

I hugged her back looking over her shoulders staring at the dragon eggs. Seeing they were not damaged from the fall. For a second, I thought I saw the bronze egg move, only to deny it considering the impact from the fall cause it to roll slightly.

.**o0o**.

Daenerys had Ser Jorah come to my hut where there was privacy. He was our confidant, able to talk to him without repercussion. All evening I couldn't speak realizing how much trouble I was in. I struck Viserys…three times. If he doesn't take Daenerys threat seriously, then I will be beaten again. I was scared, afraid what will happen when I leave my hut.

"Alysanne, what happened?" Ser Jorah asked.

"I hit him," I whispered. "I hit the dragon."

"Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon," Ser Jorah said. "Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake."

"He is still the true king," I said.

"The truth now: do you want to see your brother sitting on the Iron Throne?" Ser Jorah asked.

"No," Daenerys and I said in unison.

"But the common people are waiting for him," Daenerys added. "Illyrio said they are sewing dragon banners and praying for his return."

"The common people pray for rain, health, and a summer that never ends." Ser Jorah said. "They don't care what games the high lords play."

"What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?" I asked.

"Home," he answered.

"I pray for home too," I agreed. "My brother-husband will never take back the Seven Kingdoms."

"He couldn't lead an army even if my husband gave him one," Daenerys added, as the realization came. "He'll never take us home."

"I cannot say," Ser Jorah said.

It makes sense now why Khal Drogo took us here to Vaes Dothrak. He was pulling us further away from the West to keep Daenerys by his side. Viserys and I could leave, but not my sister. I don't think I can abandon her. It makes me question why Magister Illyrio made this match. Was he indeed on our side or does he serve for Robert Baratheon? Is he one of Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers spy? In the end, Viserys won't be sitting on the Iron Throne. My brother-husband presented him barely as a king. Damn the line of succession of men.

If only Rhaegar were still alive. Rhaegar had something planned. I remembered it when playing with Rhaenys, stating there would be changes once he was king. Something about ending the curse in our family. Growing up, I thought he meant the madness. No more of incestual marriages. But Rhaegar, like all men, he toke a woman as if she was property and that lead to a war.

And I'm stuck in hell.

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6: A Golden Crown

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 6: A Golden Crown**

_Alysanne's POV_

Lately, ever since I'd struck Viserys I've been having these strange dreams. It's hard to explain, as it was a woman who resembles a Targaryen. She stood proud and tall, having the classing Valyrian features: long, silver-gold hair that was braided up in rings and dark purple eyes. She held a harsher, more austere beauty. Wearing a dress made out of chainmail, sleeves of red and gold, and a belt where a medallion of a three-headed dragon. In her hand was a sword, one I recognize in books. Dark Sister.

I assume she was Visenya Targaryen, my ancestral aunt. Her bloodline never made it far as to her son King Maegor the First while King Aegon the Conqueror and Queen Rhaenys continued till today with Viserys, Daenerys and I. Unless you count our distant cousins in House Martell and traitor cousins in House Baratheon. I was confused about why I was having these dreams of the First Queen. Each dream was different from the last. The first was her appearance, and each dream she walks over to me leading towards what could be the beaches of Dragonstone. She tied charms on strings to Dark Sister handle and threw the charms into the water.

"Choose a thread," Visenya said.

"What?" I asked confused.

"We are descended from Daenys the Dreamer, magic is in our blood, Alysanne," Viserys explained. "Now choose a thread. And choose wisely."

I glanced at all the threads that were tied to Dark Sister. All white, no specific detail that gave them away. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes letting instincts choose. I grabbed the one to the side. Visenya drew a dagger and cut the rest of the strings except the one I'd held.

"What were they?" I asked.

"Things that you will never know. Children who will not be born, chances you will not take. They are lost to you." Visenya answered.

"And what will I catch? At the end of this fishing line of yours, Visenya?" I asked.

"The future,"' she answered, handing me a talon. "Reel it in. A foot a day."

I was confused, asking her what she meant. Instead, she walked away as a dragon landed behind me keeping watch. It was Vhagar, as his scales, horns, wings, and the spinal crest was that of flames. His amber eyes looked down on me observing. Irritated, I tried reeling the entire string until the dragon growled giving a warning. Having no choice, I spun in a foot. After a foot of line, I would wake.

Dreams were hard to remember. Once you wake up, they vanish like a distant memory. However, these dreams felt real. Visenya voice so distinctive, the smell of Vhagar's breath, and everything that happened. When I looked at my hands, I notice a faint impression from tying string to one's hand. Shaking the thought that these dreams were real, I got ready for the day.

Today was a Dosh Khaleen Ceremony. Khal Drogo made the announcement that Daenerys was with child, and by tradition present her to the Dosh Khaleen. Where a pregnant Khaleesi must perform a ritual in order to ensure the child is worthy of being Khalakka, an heir to a Khalasar. So, getting dressed, and braiding my hair I got ready for the day. I stopped staring at the ring on my finger that Viserys gave me after our wedding. A golden band in shape of the dragon's tail.

The ceremony it took place at the Center structure, the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. Many khals were present along with other Khaleesis, bloodriders and their wives, and the Dosh Khaleen. Ser Jorah explained that the Dosh Khaleen were the widows of previous Khals. When it comes to social status, they are the most powerful women in the Dothraki having wisdom received by their husbands' adventures. No man can lay with them: if a Khal, bloodrider, or warrior dares to be intimate or harms them that is not of protection will die. They reminded me of the Septas; women of the Seven, only the Dosh Khaleen doesn't have a choice. A thought lingers in my head that if Khal Drogo dies, Daenerys would be forced to be a Dosh Khaleen. I pray to the Seven we be across the Narrow Sea before that happens. If it ever happens.

Unfortunately, the ceremony was called the Stallion Heart. Daenerys was paled when Irri explained she would eat the heart of a horse. Sadly, she had to eat it raw. Khal Drogo had to find a wild stallion and carve it's heart out with a stone knife and present it to his wife where she will have to eat the entire thing. My sweet sister almost fainted, since she was still adjusting to the Dothraki cuisine. So, Irri and Jhiqui came up with a plan to prepare her for the ceremony the past few days, eating a half cook heart with blood sauce so the Khaleesi can be prepared for the taste and texture. With a pregnant woman stomach…it was hard that I held her hair when she vomited. But she had to do this, in order to make her child a Khalakka. Otherwise, the entire Khalasar won't see the child as an heir.

I stood by Ser Jorah observing the first half of the ceremony; Khal Drogo was outside and took a stone knife and killed the stallion. He cut out its heart and proudly presented it to Daenerys who stood on a platform. Nervous, she accepted the organ and hesitantly started to eat it. Viserys came over to Ser Jorah and me, though roughly stood between us. I ignored it, observing my sister perform the ritual as her violet eyes pieced into Khal Drogo's brown orbs, keeping concentration. A Dosh Khaleen who stood in front of Daenerys started sang a prayer while everyone else chanted "_Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj!"_

"She has to eat the whole heart?" Viserys asked. "I hope that wasn't my horse."

_I wish,_ I thought.

"She's doing well," Ser Jorah said proudly. Reminding me of Ser Willem when we did something that made him proud.

"She'll never keep it down," Viserys doubted.

"Can you tell me what she's saying?" I asked Ser Jorah. Even though I was still learning the language, the tone and rhythm were hard to comprehend.

"The prince is riding. I have heard the thunder of his hooves. Swift as the wind he rides." Ser Jorah translated. "His enemies will cower before him…and their wives will weep tears of blood. She's going to have a boy."

"He won't be a real Targaryen," Viserys hesitantly said. "He won't be a true dragon."

"But he will be our nephew," I reminded.

Viserys gave me a scornful look. I shrugged it off watching the rest of the ceremony. Daenerys managed to consume the heard. Her face, hands, and neck were covered in blood. On her last bite, she struggled on chewing. Just as she was about to swallow, she gagged, bending over as her hand quickly cover her mouth. The temple grew silent, all eyes on her to see if she vomits or finish it. A sharp inhale through her nose, she leans up and gulped the contents down. She took a gasp of air confirmed she ate the entire heart. Khal Drogo smiled proudly at her.

"_Vexh fin saja Phaesheseres!"_ the High Priestess praised and continued.

"The Stallion Who Mounts the World," Ser Jorah translated. "The Stallion is the Khal of Khals. He shall unite the people into a single khalasar. All the people of the world will be his herd. "

Daenerys stood up addressing the Khalasar. "_A Prince rides inside me! And he shall be called Rhaego!"_

"Rhaego!" the High Priestess praised encouraging the others to join.

I smiled, seeing she named her potential son after our brother Rhaegar and her husband Drogo. The Last Dragon shall continue onward, in name than blood. Khal Drogo stood up from his seat and walked over to his Khaleesi. He wrapped his massive arms around her thighs and lifted her into the air praising her.

"They love her," Viserys noted, eyes dilated in concern.

"She'd proven herself," I reminded.

"She truly is a queen today," Ser Jorah complimented.

"Don't you mean Khaleesi," I teased.

Ser Jorah gave a chuckle then stop looking around. I did as well, realizing Viserys had disappeared. I was afraid of what he was going to do since Daenerys was getting all the attention and he was not. I was about to leave to find him, but Ser Jorah stopped me.

"I'll go, you celebrate with your sister," he advised.

I nodded watching Ser Jorah leave the temple in search for Viserys. I pray he doesn't do something irrational or impulsive.

**.o0o.**

_The Khals Hut_

Viserys had left the Stallion Heart Ceremony for his quarters where he grabbed both of his swords, his satchel filled with money, and small belongings. Knowing he doesn't have enough to start an army and believing Magister Illyrio will not support him after the union between his sister Daenerys and Khal Drogo thought of another source of income. So, he went to the Great Khal hut, sneaking in to steal the dragon eggs. He opened the ornate trunk, revealing the three petrified eggs, a black, a gold/bronze, and a green. This was the first time he got a better look at them. Seeing the gems his ancestors' worship that brought mighty beast into the world.

A part of him wished the dragons were still alive. Wanting a dragon of his own so he could burn his enemies. If the dragons were real, none of this would've happened. No one would have dare challenge House Targaryen if the dragons were still alive and grand as Balerion the Dread or Vhagar. His Great Grandfather King Aegon the Fifth tried to resurrect the dragons when a dragon egg was presented to him, believing that a dragon could an end to the Nine Penny Kings. On 259 AC, he performed the forgotten ritual which leads to the tragedy of Summerhall. A lot of people died in the flames, including King Aegon the fifth and Prince Duncan the Small, leaving his grandfather Jaehaerys the Second king and the birth of his older brother Rhaegar. Three years of a short reign when his father took the throne.

The ritual of reviving dragons died with the last dragon rider because the dragons started to become too small to ride. Grabbing the black egg, Viserys knew it would be impossible to hatch these things for they were petrified as stone. But he knows there is value in history. The value in a rare gem. A diamond in the rough. He shoved the eggs in his satchel and stood up only to hear someone enter. Instantly hand on his sword till realizing it was Ser Jorah.

"Don't let them see you carrying a sword in Vaes Dothrak," Ser Jorah warned. "You know the law."

"It's not my law," Viserys countered.

"They don't belong to you," Ser Jorah said.

"Whatever is hers is also mine," Viserys said, securing them.

"Once, perhaps," Ser Jorah said.

Viserys stopped and glare at him, "If I sell one egg, I'll have enough to buy a ship. Two eggs – a ship and an army."

"And you have all three," Ser Jorah said.

"I need a large army," Viserys snipped, walking over. "I'm the last hope of a dynasty, Mormont. The greatest dynasty this world has ever seen of my shoulders since I was five years old—and no one has ever given me what they gave her in that tent. Never. Not a piece of it. How can I carry what I need to carry without it? Hmm? Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?"

Ser Jorah did not reply.

"Oh, you stand there, all nobility and honor." Viserys mocked getting into the exile knight's face. "You don't think I see you looking at my sister-wife, hmm? Don't think I know what you want? I don't care. You can have Daenerys. She can be the queen of the savages and dine on the finest bloody horseparts, and you can dine on whichever parts of her you like. But Alysanne, she is mine. She is what keeps the dragon's blood pure. We are leaving."

Ser Jorah tried not to scowl while staring into Viserys burning eyes. Recalling all the moments of seeing Alysanne beaten and bruised. No doubt this man tormenting the princess since she reached adolescence. Over the months he won't deny he had grown a fondness for the dragoness. Although he did not pursue it since she was a married woman and the trauma she had encountered. But he will be damn if he let Viserys take Alysanne away not knowing the suffering she will experience. Let alone, Daenerys, as Khaleesi under Khal Drogo's support decree that Alysanne will not go.

Viserys walked around to leave, but Ser Jorah stopped him.

"You can go." Ser Jorah said. "You can't have the eggs."

"You swore an oath to me," Viserys reminded. "Does loyalty mean nothing to you?"

"It means everything to me." Ser Jorah answered.

"And yet here you stand." Viserys sneered.

"And yet here _I_ stand," Ser Jorah countered, standing tall and dominate.

Viserys glared at him, realizing he will not get away with the eggs. She growled, shoving the satchel to the ground. Ser Jorah nodded, stepping aside to let the Beggar king pass. Blue and Lilac eyes never leaving each other in power, until the dragon conceded to the bear. Ser Jorah watched Viserys leave, before bending down collecting the eggs and put them in their proper place. Afterward, he went to protect the sisters. In his eyes, Alysanne and Daenerys are worthy leaders for the crown Viserys.

When Alysanne was born, there was a small coincident that the realm noticed. When the Targaryens Conquer Westeros almost three hundred years ago, it was Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. Before Daenerys was born, King Aerys named his three living children Rhaegar, Viserys, and Alysanne. Each child has the same first letters as their ancestors or name similar to them. A bitter joke, after the rebellion that each of the Targaryen children will die. Rhaegar dying first the same as Rhaenys in war. Ser Jorah hoped it ends there, but Aegon died from a stroke at age sixty-four while Visenya died from old age. History was repeating itself, three last pure Targaryens of one male and two females the same as Aegon the Conqueror campaign. Along with King Aerys the Second abuse towards his wife, Rhaella.

The exile knight, though waiting for his pardon…knows deep down he has betrayed his friends will do what he can to keep them safe. Before he returns home. Until then, he left to watch over the Khaleesi and Dragoness.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

By evening there was a feast in celebration for the new Khalakka. A goat was being roasted on the open fire, the drums were playing, and women were dancing. It was a cheerful feast. The Khals and bloodriders chatting away drinking pepper beer. I sat next to Daenerys with her handmaidens as we talked about the upcoming of the baby. I was happy for my sister, knowing she was happy. I must confess, I was a bit jealous wanting to be with child as well. Thinking about my little one who never had a chance in the world. It would probably be for the best, with Viserys losing control again. Shaking the past, I chuckled at a small joke. Irri asked what Daenerys was like as a baby. Unable to resist, I spilled little secrets that made Daenerys blush.

Ser Jorah came over joining the conversation. He laughed when I told the time Daenerys was tangled in a tree that she couldn't get down. Literally handing upside-down from the skirt. I had to get

"Alysanne!" Viserys yelled, barging into the temple. "Daenerys!"

We looked up shock realizing he was drunk. A drunken Viserys is far worse, even when he is bitter is dangerous. He doesn't have control of himself. People get hurt in his drunken rage. I should know…since it was the cause of our unborn child's death. Fearing for Daenerys's safety, not wanting her to experience the same pain I went through I turned to Ser Jorah.

"Where's my sister!" Viserys slurred.

"Stop him," I told Ser Jorah.

"Where is she?" Viserys continued. "Where are they? I'm here for the feast. The whore's feast."

Ser Jorah got up walking over to Viserys. Cautiously putting his hand on the Dragon. "Come."

Viserys stumbled back, shoving Ser Jorah away, "Get your hands off me! No one touches the Dragon!"

"_Khal rhea mhar! Me ifa_!" one of the khals said causing the others to laugh.

Viserys heard them turning to face the Khals, "Khal Drogo! I'm here for the feast."

"_Nevakhi vekha ha maan,"_ Khal Drogo said, gesturing to the corner where the elders and young boys were.

"Khal Drogo says there is a place for you," Ser Jorah translated. "Back there."

Viserys shook his head, "This is no place for a king."

"You are no king," Drogo taunted in common tongue.

Viserys scowled drawing his custom sword pointing it as Ser Jorah's neck, "Keep away from me!"

The drums stopped playing, and women gasp. Viserys broke Vaes Dothrak sacred law. Drawing a blade of metal. The only sharp objects allowed in this city were ones carved out of stone. So, if Viserys dares draw blood, he would be a dead man.

"Viserys, please," Daenerys pleaded.

Viserys turned his head, "There they are."

He walked over, blade aimed at us. Out of instinct, I stood up between Daenerys and him. His sword aimed at my chest.

"Put the sword down. They'll kill us all," Ser Jorah warned.

"They can't kill us," Viserys chuckled, swooping his blade at Ser Jorah, accidentally cutting my vest. "They can't shed blood in their sacred city.", then back to me. "But I can."

"Calm down," I warned him.

"I want what I came for," Viserys murmured. "I want the crown he promised me."

"And you will, when the time comes." I reminded. "Aegon did not conquer the Seven Kingdoms in a day. He forged an alliance. Alliances build armies. Armies are what wins wars."

"Don't lecture me about how to build my armies," Viserys yelled, suddenly grabbed me by the arm forcing me away from Daenerys. Not a second later he shoved me backward that I fell into the fire pit. I gasped in shock, not comprehending what was happening. There was a cry, as Ser Jorah and a warrior rushed in pulling me out of the fire. My dress burning that they try to rip the fabric off. Everyone was shocked, except for Viserys who turned his attention to Daenerys. Meanwhile, Irri went to Khal Drogo translating. Daenerys remained calmed staring at him.

"He bought you. But he never paid for you." Viserys said. "Tell him I want what was bargained for, or I'm taking you back. He can keep the baby." Then point the sword to her belly. "I'll cut it out and leave it for him."

"_Anha vazhak maan rek me zala_," Khal Drogo said. "_Anha Vazhak maan firikhnharen hoshora ma mahrazhi aqovi affin mori atihi mae!"_

Comprehending his words my eyes widen but did not say anything. Knowing this is our chance to put an end to this madness. Daenerys looked at me, silently asking me to do this. I nodded, putting an end to all this. It's time to let go of the past and the traditions. Most importantly, an end to the madness. Let it end.

"What's he saying?" Viserys asked.

"He says yes," Daenerys said. "You shall have a golden crown…that men shall tremble to behold."

This snapped Viserys out of his rage. The Dragon looked at the horse lord, and chuckle, stepping away from our sister. "That is all I wanted. What – what was promised."

Khal Drogo stood up walking over to Daenerys. His hand resting on her belly, which she placed her hand on his.

"_Qora mae_," Khal Drogo ordered.

Two bloodriders came over grabbed Viserys by the arms. One using an elbow to break it, causing my brother-husband to scream.

"No! You cannot touch me. I am the dragon. I am the dragon! I want my crown! Ahh!" Viserys exclaimed.

"_Ammeni haz jolin!"_ Khal Drogo ordered, removing his golden medallion belt.

One of the wives poured out the soup from the cauldron. Khal Drogo shoved the medallion belt in. He came over to me, checking my condition. I didn't know what he was doing until he took my left hand removing the golden band that signifies my marriage to Viserys. Not objecting, Khal Drogo tossed the ring into the cauldron where it melts into the belt. Ser Jorah helped me up leading me towards Daenerys who wrapped her arms around me for support. Overwhelmed by everything, unable to feel pain only staring at Viserys who was on his knees being restrained. The Dragon begging for his life.

"Look away, girls," Ser Jorah advised.

"No," Daenerys said, voice monotone.

Viserys glanced at the cauldron hearing the sizzling of the melted gold.

"No, Dany," Viserys pleaded. "Dany, tell them. Make them! Alys, please. I am your brother-husband. I am yours, and you are mine. Sisters, please!"

Khal Drogo grabbed the handles to the cauldron and came over to Viserys. The last male Targaryen struggle to get free, but the bloodriders held him still. For once, fear was written in his face. The same fear Daenerys and I felt over the years.

"Dany, Alys, please!" Viserys begged, then gasped staring at Drogo.

"A crown for a king," Drogo said, lifting the cauldron and pouring the melted gold on Viserys head.

Like volcanic lava, the gold poured in a thick, burning liquid on Viserys. Melting his skin, vaporizing his silver hair, while casting to his form. Viserys screamed in agony, his body convulsing to the pain. Daenerys and I stood there, watching, willing to let one of our own die. When the last screamed fell silent into a few gagging gasps, he grew silent. Body not moving. The bloodriders let go of Viserys's arm, letting him fall as a loud clank could be heard from the golden crown.

For five years I've been his sister-wife. Five years forced into a marriage I did not want to be in. Five years in disgust, as he raped me. Forced and pressure me into sex. Five years of being abused, physically, mentally, and emotionally. All this time, I thought I will be living in hell for the rest of my days. No one will save me, and yet it took my sister and her husband to put an end to Viserys tyranny. The invisible shackles vanished and the weight in my stomach gone. Standing there, I stared at his corpse.

"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah spoke.

"He was no dragon," Daenerys murmured. "Fire cannot kill a dragon."

Her violet eyes landed on me. More directly at my body where it was exposed to the fire. I looked down seeing the scrapes from the pit, the fabric gone, yet…my skin was not red. No burn marks were covering my body.

"Alysanne," Ser Jorah said "Let's get you to a healer. You're bleeding."

I looked down to my chest where blood was soaking the vest. Viserys drew blood with his sword. He threatened the Great Khal's Khaleesi. Breaking the sacred law resulted in death. Still, in shock, Ser Jorah picked me up and carried me to the healers. I looked over the knight's shoulder and into my sisters' eyes. It was over. We were free.

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**Dream scene inspired by the White Queen**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	7. Chapter 7: A fresh start, but the past

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 7: A fresh start, but the past follows…**

Alysanne's POV

I can't believe he is gone.

Viserys was officially gone, and I was free. Yes, I am a widow now, but I'm finally free from his control. My body is my own. My fate is under my control. No more will I let a man control me. No more will I be a slave. Daenerys felt the same as well. It was a sacrifice that our family name shall come to an end, but the blood of the dragon will continue onward.

The strangest thing, however, was there were no wounds on my body from the firepit. I had a nice cut across my chest, but my back, arms, and legs that came into contact with the fire were fine. A few scraps, but no severe burns. One healer believed that my clothes prevented full contact from the flames and being pulled out just the nick of time. Another thinks it was the Great Stallion saving me from protecting the khalakka. It was still strange since it took Kovarro and Ser Jorah extinguishing the flames and they were burned slightly. But something felt off, something was stirring deep inside me.

Daenerys felt the same. She told me she fell into a trance with her dragon eggs by the firepit in her hut. Something told her to put the egg on the embers. When she took the egg out, it was hot, yet she felt nothing. But Irri who took the egg out of her hand getting a burn while Daenerys's hands were fine. How is it, Daenerys and I were not harmed by the fire yet Viserys died from it.

When I dreamed again, I tried to prolong the reeling of the string. Visenya appeared noticing that I was stalling.

"Say it," Visenya said.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You need to be more specific," she replied.

"I fell into the fire and did not burn," I told her. "Yet Viserys, he died when molten gold was poured on his head."

"It's a dishonor that he is given my name," Visenya muttered.

_Well, I did not expect that,_ I thought

Vhagar gave what sounded like a chuckle. Visenya gave him a look before sitting on a boulder.

"Aegon the Fifth did a spell trying to hatch two dragon eggs long ago. As you may know, the ritual failed causing the death of many people. When there was a tragedy in death there was also life," she said.

"Rhaegar," I whispered. My eldest brother was born during the tragedy of Summerhall. My Great Grandfather, King Aegon the fifth died perished with Prince Duncan Small, Queen Betha Blackwood, many Targaryen cousins, and Ser Duncan the tall. Father managed to get Mother while she was in labor, and deliver Rhaegar in the gardens while Summerhall was consume in flames.

Visenya nodded, "The spell that is supposed to wake the dragon eggs…one attached to Rhaegar and I can guess the second egg was female and attach to you. Then again magic is complicated. So many loopholes. Either way, you are alive and should be thankful for it. Otherwise, I would have to start over again."

"Start over again?" I asked.

"When you pull the charm and learn your fate, I shall mentor you where to go," Visenya said. "Something is coming. Something far greater than you can imagine. Your brother Rhaegar knew of it, but I fear he got obsessed about it."

"And what is that?" I asked.

"First, reel the charm, and I shall tell you of your fate." She said and looked at the line. "Then again, you still got a long way to go."

"Is there anything you can tell me?" I asked.

"Yes, learn to use a sword." She answered.

"What?"

"You need to learn to fight. Fuck the rules, you are a Targaryen and we Targaryen women can fight." She said. "Now finish reeling the line, it's time to wake up."

I sighed, not wanting to anger her and reeled the foot of string.

When I wake, I prepared for the day. I was no longer bound to follow where Viserys goes. With my brother-husband now dead, his body cremated and placed in an urn. Daenerys requested it, hoping one day we can return home and lay him to rest. Or at least at Dragonstone next to Mother. A free woman I am, but I was also a prime target. Khal Drogo, seeing how I tried to protect Daenerys from Viserys has rewarded me with his protection. As long as I stay in his khalasar, no man can harm me. Having nowhere else to go I accepted his offer. And being there for Daenerys.

The thought still lingers though. Viserys was the last pure male Targaryen, the last male heir of King Aerys the second. In other words, I am the Queen. The Exiled Queen. Unless Daenerys gives birth to a son. Honestly, I don't care anymore. Right now, it is survival. The only people who've been calling me Queen Alysanne was Doreah and Ser Jorah. I told them there was no need for formality. Not wanting to overshadow Daenerys. Most importantly, not be targeted by potential assassins. There are people who hold resemblance of Targaryens, being descendants of Old Valyria survivors from the doom. But they stop the practice of inbreeding that they either have the shades of purple eyes or silver-gold hair. Never both.

Anyway, I finished dressing when there was a knock on the post, "Queen Alysanne."

I turned around facing Ser Jorah, "No need for titles, Ser Jorah."

Ser Jorah gave a small smile, "A women of great power should stand strong."

I nodded with a sigh.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Physically, a bit sore but everything else…I am well," I answered. "It may sound terrible since I lost my brother-husband…however, I don't feel the same sorrow that most widows would feel. I did love Viserys, but nothing more than a brother. But the past five years…I can't forgive him."

Ser Jorah nodded, as he removed the rag revealing the Targaryen sword. My eyes widen for I thought it burned with Viserys's body or a bloodrider confiscating it. He handed me the blade, which I hold it dearly. It wasn't House Targaryen Valyrian sword. No, there used to be two swords, Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Blackfyre, the Sword of Aegon the Conquer was carried out through many generations until King Aegon the Fourth gave it to his illegitimate son Daemon Blackfyre. It was lost after the first Blackfyre rebellion, last seen by Bittersteel.

Meanwhile, Dark Sister vanished along with its owner Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers. Another illegitimate son of King Aegon the Unworthy. For some apparent reason, he hated his son Daeron the Second that he legitimized all his bastards and gave the family's sacred heirlooms to them. Now the sword in my hand was commission by my Father in his youth. Viserys told me the sword doesn't have a name. A sword doesn't need a name. So, it was mainly the Targaryen Sword.

"How?" I asked him.

"I managed to snatch it before they cremated Viserys body," Ser Jorah answered. "Along with this."

He handed me the ring that was in the shape of the dragon. The royal ring passed down through generation from Aegon the Conqueror to Aerys the Second. It should have gone to Rhaegar when Father died, yet it went to Viserys. Now…it goes to me unless Daenerys has a son.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome, my queen." He said.

Unable to control myself I hugged him. This baffled the exiled knight, almost stumbling back but caught himself. Unsure what to do, he awkwardly wrapped his arm around me. After a moment, I pulled back before trying on the ring. Unfortunately, it did not fit except for my middle finger. Afraid of losing it, I decided to put it on the chain of my necklace.

"Can I ask you a favor?" I asked.

"Whatever my queen commands," he replied.

"Can you teach me how to use a sword?" I asked.

This surprised him. I know women are not meant to fight with a sword in this day in age. But if my dreams with Visenya are real, then it's best I learn how to wield a weapon. Visenya says something was coming. I don't know what she means, but it must be significant that she would advise me to prepare.

Ser Jorah thought about it, "We will have to travel far away from the Khalasar if I were to train you."

I nodded, appreciating in his support.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

The Khaleesi was bonding with Khal Drogo. She enjoys these moments, not having her husband put up his shield and be himself. The past few days have been overwhelming after Drogo killed Viserys with a "Crown of Gold," quite literally. Overall his action liberated her and Alysanne from their brother's cruelty. At least Drogo was considerate enough to have Viserys cremated, except it was outside of Vaes Dothrak and no ceremony. Not wanting the Dragon to be part of the Night Sky. Now the remains were in Alysanne possession, hoping one day to put Viserys to rest in Westeros.

However, there was one issue, Viserys was dead, and that breaks the arrangement both men made on armies. Alysanne hasn't addressed it to Khal Drogo about the marital alliance yet. Daenerys couldn't blame her since her sister was almost killed by her brother-husband. Cutting her chest and tossing her in the firepit. Everyone gasped in shock, even if the Dothraki believe a man has a right to beat their wife, he does not have the right to kill her. But Alysanne did receive some injuries. A nice gash on her chest, but there were no burns on her body. The Healers praised that the Great Stallion saved Alysanne for her attempt to protect the Khalakka…yet Daenerys had another theory. One she is not sure about. Either way, the Khaleesi wanted more for her family. She wanted to go home, back to Westeros.

So, sitting on a stool, she brushes and braided Drogo's long hair

"_The stallion who mounts the world has no need for iron chairs_," Drogo said.

"_According to the prophecy…the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth,"_ Daenerys murmured.

"_The earth ends at the black sea,"_ Drogo stated in his culture's beliefs. "_No horse can cross the poison water."_

"_The earth does __**not**__ end at the sea…there are many dirts beyond the sea. The dirt where I was born."_ Daenerys said, finishing the braid.

Drogo turned to face her, correcting her vocabulary. "_No dirts. Lands_."

"_Lands, yes…"_ She smiled. "_There are thousands of ships in the free cities. Wooden horses that fly across the sea…"_

"_Let's not speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs_," Drogo said, putting an end to the discussion.

"_It's not a chair. It's a_…" she paused trying to find the correct word. Giving up she said it common tongue, "…throne."

"Throne," Drogo repeated.

"_A chair for a king to sit upon_," Daenerys murmured, leaning over resting her head on his shoulder looking into his eyes with a smile. "_Or…a queen_."

Drogo rested his forehead on hers thinking about it. Tempting in the power the people of the west has, the symbolism of power. Still, he was a Dothraki, a Khal, he keeps to traditions, and believes his son is the ruler of Essos. So, with a groan, he turned to face his wife, resting a hand on her belly. "_A king doesn't need a chair to sit upon. He only needs a horse."_

He gave his _Moon of his Life_ a kiss, which she returns before getting up and ready for the day. Daenerys sat there comprehending his words. Contemplating where to go from here. She knows that in the line of succession it was Alysanne decision to go West or not. But deep down, she wants to give her child the best things in life. A more secure rule if she were to have a son. In the end, it was Drogo and Alysanne who have the final say.

Maybe she can convince Alysanne when they go to the market. They intended to socialize more, now that Alysanne was physically better. Perhaps she can convince her sister to keep to Viserys bargain. The deal in which Khal Drogo promised to provide an army in exchange for her hand in marriage. Her sister was technically the rightful queen.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

The markets in Vaes Dothrak was alluring. All around there were exotic items from the east and merchandise from the west. Feeling free, no longer Viserys controlling what I wear is exciting. Also, it allows for bonding time with Daenerys. All afternoon we walked about with Irri and Doreah who held our purchases. Along with Rakharo and Aggo as protectors. Although, we had to spend our money cautiously. The Dothraki don't believe in currency, they contribute in trade and some stalls won't except trade items unless it's worth in gem, silver, or gold. Luckily, Daenerys was given money as a wedding gift.

Later on, we spotted Ser Jorah wandering through the streets. He seemed determined, as he looked around as if searching for someone. Daenerys came over and offered to accompany us. I told her not to pursue people since Ser Jorah might be busy, but he accepted the offered. Letting him join us, we continue to walk when Daenerys brought up the Iron Throne again.

"Dany," I sighed.

"Alysanne, you are next in line to the throne. Drogo made a deal for my marriage," Daenerys said.

"The problem is I am a woman from the Western Lands, an exile royal, and he is a Dothraki Warlord," I said. "You are talking about to different cultures debating about a contract Viserys and Magister Illyrio arranged."

Daenerys sighed and looked at Ser Jorah, "Can you help me make him understand?"

"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons." Ser Jorah answered. "I can counsel for Alysanne to renew the arrangement. Have patience, Khaleesi. We will go home, I promise you."

"She doesn't have patience," I jest.

Daenerys sighed, "My brother was a fool, I know, but he was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

Ser Jorah laughed. For some reason, I couldn't help but chuckle by his reaction. Seeing actual amusement instead of being forced or considerate.

"Have I said something funny, ser?" Daenerys asked.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi, but your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror didn't seize six of the kingdoms because they were his right. He had no right to them. He seized them because he could." Ser Jorah explained.

"And because he had dragons as his ultimate weapon," I added.

"Ah well, having a few dragons makes things easier," Ser Jorah said.

"You don't believe it," Daenerys accused.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked. "I believe what my eyes and ears report. As for the rest…it was three hundred years ago. Who knows what really happened?"

"Clearly you haven't seen Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxis skulls," I said. "They were the closest to the Iron Throne. They were so big, you are the size of Balerion's teeth, Dany. I can only assume you were never in the Throne Room, Ser Jorah?"

"I must confess, I never have the opportunity," Ser Jorah confessed.

"Then how did you serve our father?" Daenerys asked.

"Through a chain of command," Ser Jorah answered. "I may've been a knight, but I wasn't in the Kingsguard. Now if you'll pardon me, I'll seek out the merchant captain, see if he has any letters for me."

"Well, we'll come with you," I offered.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Ser Jorah kindly declined. "Enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you soon enough."

Something was strange about Ser Jorah. Wasn't he an exiled knight? Why would he be receiving a message? Let alone a captain merchant in the Dothraki seas? Unless he was still communicating with Magister Illyrio about our location and current events. I wonder what the Magister will be thinking now that Viserys is dead. No doubt trying to earn my favor. Arrange some sort of marital alliance to one of his rich and powerful associates. The problem is, I have no interest in marriage at the moment. After five years in an abusive marriage, I need to find myself again.

Sighing, I wrapped my arm around Daenerys as we continue our splurge.

.**o0o**.

_Ser Jorah's POV_

The exiled knight wandered through the crowded streets in search of the captain merchant. He was indeed, in fact, retreating letters from Illyrio who kept him updated on the plans. A part of him was crossed, befriending with the Targaryen Sisters and betraying them at the same time by sending a letter to Varys of Daenerys pregnancy. Seeing the fate that Westeros had with Viserys, it better be King Robert on the Iron Throne. But after the Beggar King's death, he was still conflicted in what happened during it. Everyone was shocked that Viserys shoved Alysanne into the fire. He and Kovarro quickly pulled her out, trying to extinguish the flames, and yet not a degree burns on her.

The Dragoness continued to baffle him even more. How she freely confesses how she honestly felt about her brother-husband. Seeing what the young woman went through, he couldn't blame her. Especially when she asked him to train her how to fight. Learn how to use a sword. Luckily for her, he was a Mormont, and people of Bear Island are prepared to fight no matter the gender. Mainly to fight off a bear, but still, he considered Alysanne deserved to defend herself.

And give him a chance to spend time with her. Somewhere on the journey through the Dothraki Sea, he grew a fondness. He tried to control himself, not wanting to be betrayed again, the same with Lynesse. Scolding himself for being attracted to younger women.

Once he found the merchant, he opened the letter to see what Illyrio reported. A frown formed, reading that King Robert has promised a lordship to whoever slays Viserys, Alysanne, Daenerys, and her child. Jorah took a deep breath, as he gave the merchant his report. The merchant nodded, as the two men part ways. Many thoughts linger in his head, as he hid the letters. A wave of guilt.

"Psst, Jorah the Andal," a child's voice called out.

Jorah stopped looking around till spotting a boy hiding behind the cart. He recognized the boy as one of Varys's little bird. He came over wondering what he wanted.

"The spider sends his greetings and his congratulations," The boy said, handing him a scroll that had the seal of the King. "A royal pardon – you can go home now."

Before Ser Jorah could comprehend, the boy ran off. Astonished, he examined the scroll to indeed confirm he's been pardoned. He can return home now, be reinstated as Lord of Bear Island. The chance to revive his House name. Seeing his aunt Maege and possible cousins. Then the thought lingers to the Targaryen Sisters. Two innocent women forced on the run. They two crave for home. Now he was crossed between returning home now or stay before it's too late.

The exiled knight wanders around contemplating the decision until spotting the girls walking over to a wine cart. A Westerosi wine merchant. The man tossed the sample away and rushed to get a different kind of wine. Recalling what Magister Illyrio had written of King Robert offering lordship to whoever kills the Targaryens, seeing Alysanne hesitation…made him decide.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Daenerys and I entered the Western Market. All around we see familiar items. Merchants trying their best to speak Dothraki. It is a complicated language.

"_Vizetha gizikhven! Mra gora! Mra qora!"_ One merchant called out. Translating his words, "_Red wine…I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis and the Arbor! Tyoshi pear brandy! Andalish sour! I have them! I have them!"_

"Shall we get some wines of home?" I suggested.

"Why not," Daenerys said that we chuckle.

We walked over to the stall to see what else the merchant was selling. The man smiled, jumping off a barely and approached us, "_A taste for the Khaleesi? I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady. One taste and you'll name your child after me."_

He poured out a sample offering it to Daenerys since she wore the golden belt that identifies her as a Khaleesi.

"My son already has his name, but I'll try your summer wine?" Daenerys graciously replied in common tongue." Just a taste."

This surprised the merchant as he glanced between Daenerys and me, "My ladies, you are from Westeros. May I guess, House Velaryon?"

"No, but they are our distant cousins," I said. Leaving it at that.

Sadly, Doreah had to introduce us. "You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and princess of the Seven Kingdoms. And her royal majesty, Queen Alysanne of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

"My Queen, princess," the merchant said with a bow.

"Rise," Daenerys said. "We'd still like to taste that wine."

"That? Dornish swill," he said, tossing the wine onto the ground. "Not worthy for royalty. I have a dry red from the Arbor—nectar of the Gods. Let me give you both a cask. Uh – gift." He rushed inside his caravan cart.

Something did not feel right. Dornish Wine was considered to be the most luxurious red wine in Westeros. The Arbors were second in red but exceeds high expectation in white wine. But the man was offering red. Then again, it depends on one's taste buds, if you prefer sweetness you go for the Arbor if you prefer rich in taste you go for the Dornish. Still, both wines are excellent in my opinion, depending on what you compare it to your meals. However, the man's actions appeared hesitant.

"You honor me, Ser," Daenerys said happily.

"The honor—the honor is all mine," he returns handing it to Daenerys, yet Rakharo took custody of it. He went back inside and brought in another, which Aggo took for me. "There are many in your homeland that pray for your return, your grace."

"I hope to repay for your kindness someday," Daenerys replied.

"Rakharo, Aggo," Ser Jorah appeared out of nowhere. "Put down both casks."

Both Khas obeyed setting it on another barrel.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"I have a thirst," Ser Jorah answered. "Open it."

Rakharo forced the barrel he held into the merchant's arm.

The man grew nervous, "The wine is for the Khaleesi and Queen. It's not for the likes of you,"

"Open it," Ser Jorah insisted.

The merchant paused staring at us, until setting it on a table removing the cork.

"Pour," Ser Jorah continued.

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe," the man explained.

I scowled, "Do as he says."

"As the queen commands," he said, taking a cup and pouring a glass of Arbor red. He handed the sample to Ser Jorah who sniffed the wine, yet he too was cautious. "Sweet, isn't it? Can you smell the fruit, Ser? Taste it, my lord. Tell me that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue. "

Ser Jorah glanced at Daenerys and me, before bringing the cup to his lips. Just as he was about to take a sip, he stopped himself seeing the deviant merchant stare. He pulled the glass away handing it to the man, "You first."

"Me?" the merchant asked, caught off guard. "I'm afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares."

"You will drink," Daenerys ordered.

The man nodded, accepting the cup bringing it up to his lips. Only to hesitate, glancing at us until suddenly throwing it away, and grabbed a barrel; tossing it at Rakharo fleeing. Daenerys stumbled, but I caught her.

"Stop him!" Ser Jorah ordered.

Aggo and Rakharo ran after the wine merchant. Looking at the ground seeing the seeped into the grass turning the green into brown. Poison. The man tried to poison us. Keeping a secure arm on Daenerys, Ser Jorah lead the way, as he found Aggo and another Dothraki warrior restraining the merchant while Rakharo secured his whip.

I thought we were far away from King Robert's assassins. It seems like once a year there was an assassin after us. The only time they never appeared was when we lived in Braavos under Ser Willem's custody and in Pentos. Usually, it is a blade or arrow, but poison wine is a first. Another thing was how Ser Jorah knew the wine was poison?

.**o0o**.

In the temple of the Dosh Khaleen. The assassin was tied to a pillar terrified in what could happen. Face bloody and swollen. Not only did he try to poison us, but he attempted to poison a Khaleesi. The Great Khal Drogo's Khaleesi. Let alone, Daenerys caring the Stallion who mounts the world. My niece or nephew.

All thanks to Ser Jorah Mormont.

"How did you know the wine was poison?" I asked.

"Remember the merchant captain I'd went to see?" he replied, which we nodded. "I received a letter from Magister Illyrio. Warning us about King Robert's assassins. Seeing a Westerosi merchant dumping Dornish wine is a sin, if not giving two casks of Arbors wine willingly."

"Coincidence then," I concluded.

"Coincidence indeed," Ser Jorah agreed.

"What will they do to him?" Daenerys asked.

"When the khalasar rides, he'll be leashed to a saddle forced to run behind the horses as long as he can," Ser Jorah answered.

"And when he falls?" Daenerys asked.

Ser Jorah paused, "I saw a man last nine miles once."

"King Robert still wants us dead," Daenerys sighed.

"This poisoner was the first. He won't be the last," Ser Jorah said.

"No, he's the first poisoner, but not the first assassin," I said.

Daenerys looked at me surprised.

"When you were born, Ser Robert sent assassins before his brother Stannis arrived. While you were hidden, there've been attempts on Viserys and me, from the streets to our bedroom. The only reason we are still alive is because I have a good pair of lungs and Viserys sleeps with a knife under his pillow or a host providing guards." I told her. Lifting up my hair from the back of my neck revealing a small scar.

"I thought he'd leave us alone—now that our brother is gone," Daenerys said.

"He will never leave you two alone," Ser Jorah said. "If you ride to darkest assai, his assassins will follow you. If you sailed all the way to the Basilisk Isles, his spies would tell him. He will never abandon the hunt. You girls are Targaryens the last Targaryens. Your son, Khaleesi will have Targaryen blood with forty-thousand riders behind him."

"He will not have my son," Daenerys panic.

"He won't," I promised, wrapping my arms around her.

Ser Jorah looked at us, "He will not have either of you."

We pulled back just as the bloodriders and warriors entered the temple. Khal Drogo came, marching over to the poisoner. The man quiver in fear, face to face with the Great Khal. Drogo growled, taking a torch and tossed it in the fire pit, before walking over to Daenerys.

"_Moon of my life_," Khal Drogo said, expressing his worry as he cradles her face. "_Are you hurt."_

Daenerys took his hand shaking her head. Drogo sighed in relief and kissed the top of her head. He turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"_Sister_?" he asked.

I gave a small reassuring smile that all is well. Khal Drogo nodded and went over to Ser Jorah

"_Jorah the Andal, I heard what you did,"_ Drogo said walking over to Jorah. "_Choose any horse you wish, it is yours." _He rests his hand on the exile knight's shoulder and gives a Dothraki hug. "_I make this gift to you." _

Drogo then returned to Daenerys, resting his hand on her belly, "_And to my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will also pledge a gift. I will give him the iron chair_…" he pulled away walking around the fire speaking to his riders. _"…that is mother's fathers sat upon. I will give him Seven Kingdoms. I Drogo, will do this. I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends…"_ his riders cheered. _"…and ride wooden horses across the black salt water…as no Khal has done before." _The riders cheered while screaming into the poisoners face. _"I will kill the men in iron suits…and tear down their stone houses."_ He marched around exaggerating his speech. "_I will rape their women…take their children as slaves…and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak." _The riders cheered. "_This, I vow…I, Drogo, son of Bharbo. I swear before the Mother of Mountains…as stars look down in witness. As stars look down in witness_!"

_Only if she has a son,_ Visenya's voice whispered in my ear.

I mentally shook my head realizing the dangers we will set upon Westeros. All it took the Dothraki to finally receive their omens of war…was an assassination attempt on a Khaleesi. Only I fear the consequences the people of Westeros will encounter. I condone the acts of rape and slavery. But a part of me was upset, that I will lose my claimant before the child is even born. Perhaps, I could request to have Dragonstone. The only ancestral home where the Targaryen went before the Doom of Valyria.

By morning Drogo's Khalasar with forty-thousands warriors behind him with their Khalasar. I rode beside Ser Jorah and Daenerys on the long journey towards South for Slaver's Bay to sell their captives, in exchange of ships. Tied by rope, naked, was the poisoner, being dragged by Daenerys's horse. I knew this was wrong, but I am a dragoness surrounded by wild stallions.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	8. Chapter 8: Dothraki Iron Price

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Dothraki Iron Price**

Months of travel through the grass sea and the country of Lhazar. Khal Drogo was in search of cities and villages to raid in search of resources to fund Daenerys campaign in taking the Iron Throne for their potential son. Fortunately, the cities were smart enough that they provided them slaves and gold. More in gold than slaves, but at least these slaves will not be used. As Ser Jorah explained, when a city gives a slave, the warriors cannot take the women. They take women from raids, not gifts.

I was still sickened by the concept. Reminding me that I was a slave to Viserys. If not experience in Volantis. There was this grand wedding, a wedding's in Volantis can last for days. Viserys went with the host, while Daenerys and I remained in the estate. It was the hottest day, hottest in the three-year summer. All the children and maidens went straight to the Rhoyne. Free and slaves there enjoying their time. All were equal for that one moment. No one gave a damn. Until a young boy was drowning. He was floating faced down in the water. His sister, screaming pulled him out of the river bank. She shook him, screaming him to wake up. Until one slave with a fish tattoo on his cheek rushed in shoving the girl. It was a crime to push a highborn, which resulted in death. But the slave did not care, he performed some sort of revival technique that the boy coughed up water and breathed.

Mother used to tell me in Valyrian, _Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor_, which means _a dragon is not a slave_. If a dragon is not a slave, neither is a human. And yet, I let my adolescent life in being a slave in an unwanted, abusive marriage. A sacrifice so Daenerys can be safe. I fear the road Daenerys is taking in getting us home will not be the method our ancestors did. Aegon did not siege conquest through slavery. No, based off the books, he arranged meetings to discuss peace, allow the Kings to surrender. When they did not surrender, then there were battles. In his victories, after appointing a new Wardens of a Kingdom, he did not take slaves. No, he collected their swords. And those swords from the leaders and generals and kings forge the Iron Throne while the rest became the foundation of the Red Keep.

There was always a choice, and that choice can reward the individual or hold a dreadful consequence. King Harren Hoarse of the Riverlands, King Mern Gardener of the Reach, King Loren Lannister of the Westerlands, and King Argilac of the Stormlands learned that the hard way. Queen Regent Sharra Arryn of the Vale and King Torrhen Stark from the North saw reason on the actions of their comrades and bend the knee. The North and Vale were given more lienees because they surrendered. As for Princess Mera Martell…she was the only one who did not bend the knee. That is another story entirely.

_Fire and Blood_, House Targaryens Motto. Fire in the burning of the dragon's flame and the blood of the slain. I also believed there was another side to the motto. As fire is considered to be a destructive element, it also provides life, warmth. Meanwhile, blood can be spilled, but it ruins in our veins that allows us to live. _Live or Die_, that was the option Aegon the Conqueror was offering, in a realm where there has been nothing but war and corruption.

I won't deny that House Targaryen made many mistakes after King Aegon's death. The dangers of incest, from the conceptions of madness. There are good kings of greatness, and there are terrible tyrants. In the end, it makes us human. The dragons were the only thing that made us unique. So, when the Last Dragon died…we were reminded that we were only human. And many Targaryen Kings had to learn it the hard way through the five Blackfyre rebellions.

Only one rebellion of a familiar put an end to House Targaryens arrogance. From our cousins, House Baratheon. On the mistake Rhaegar made by taking a betrothed woman and Father's obsession with wildfire and burning the North's Warden and heir. Viserys told Daenerys we were not at fault for the rebellion. Now that he is dead, and when I have a chance, I try to educate her on the truth. Our house is a coin, it holds two sides: one good and the other bad. If we were to go home, we must proceed with caution. For though there are many great kings in our House, it five took Targaryens to question that.

Once we made camp. Ser Jorah escorted me a mile away to train. This has been going on since departing Vaes Dothrak at first inside his tent, where he taught me how to hold a sword. How to find its balance. The Targaryen sword was not like his broad sword. No, it was an arming sword, double-sided. Weighing probably five pounds easy to use single handed. Before I learn to fight, I must learn about the sword, the names, and parts of it. Most importantly, how to hold and adjust.

By the time I understand how to grip the handle, did I learn to form stance? Ser Jorah was serious about his tutoring. Taking the extra smile in purchasing wooden swords, not tourney swords, as he explained, "I like to keep my hands." As if he was afraid, I would accidentally cut them off. Along with a heavy padded vest for armor. I won't lie, I was terrible at first. I wasn't born with a sword in my hand or trained with a Master of arms.

Ser Jorah was gentle at first, but as time went on, he added more force. Currently, I was learning how to use defensive. As the Exiled Knight explained, it is vital to defend oneself than the attack. So, Ser Jorah would strike an attack, while I block it. Hands, arms, and legs were hit. Even with gloves, I felt the pain. Bruises and welts were forming, but I did not care, knowing that they come from training than being abused. Although, a part of me wonders if I just bruise easily as a side effect of inbreeding.

After the lesson, I sat on a weaved mat checking my hands. A nice welt forming. Ser Jorah sat down next to me, as he pulled out a canister filled with ointment out of his satchel. He took my hand applying the salve.

"Learning to fight is never easy," Ser Jorah said.

"I bet it was for the Warrior," I muttered, then winced.

"Even the Warrior had to learn," he said. "Everyone learns. Some learn from training while others learn from experience."

I nodded, "Who taught you how to fight?"

"My father," he said.

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"Jeor Mormont took the black at Castle Black. Last I've heard, he is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." He answered.

Seeing his past on his poor choices linger in his blue eyes, I changed the subject. "Is it true that Bear Island is populated by bears?"

"Indeed, it is," he answered. "You could see a bear once a day in the summer. Once a week in the winter if they are not hibernating."

"Hibernating?" I asked. Never heard such a word.

"Sleeping a long period of time in the winter," he told me the definition.

I nodded trying to remember the winter. In King's Landing, I don't recall the winter season. There were cold windy nights, but never snow. In Braavos, there was some snow, but being a coastal city filled with activity, the Snow could be seen on the roofs of the building. Otherwise, all the Free Cities we've gone too never had snow. Only cold weather and rain. I tried to remember what snow looked like, all white that if a snowflake landed on you, you could see the intricate details. It was also cold too, and wet when melted.

"I would like to see a bear, and see snow again," I thought allowed.

"Perhaps once we return home, I can show you Bear Island," Ser Jorah offered.

"Really?" I asked surprised.

"It's best to know your people, there is more to the Seven Kingdoms than King's Landing and Dragonstone." He answered.

I sighed looking down at my necklace where the royal ring dangled. If I were to become queen. The Dothraki are not going south for ships to sail to Westeros for me. No, they are sailing for Rhaego. Khal Drogo held a passion for putting his son on the Iron Throne. It's a fifty-fifty percent chance that Daenerys is carrying a son. Honestly, I don't mind if my nephew claims the Iron Throne. What bothers me is how it's continuously reminded. Causing a slight rift between Daenerys and I. The only way I can secure my claimant is that there are no male heirs, that I am wedded, and have an heir of my own. But I don't want to be married…not after five years of hell.

"If I become queen," I sighed.

"Why do you allow it?" he asked.

"I'm a woman with only a name and bloodline. I have no lands, armies, or fortunes." I answered. "Currently, I just want to survive. Find myself again."

Ser Jorah sat there and listen.

"The beginning of my life I was kept in a tower because my father was paranoid, that I might get sick or assassinated. I hardly remember other places than the Throne Room. When exiled from Dragonstone, all my education has been about traditions. Ser Willem, bless his soul did so much to provide my siblings and me a childhood. But when he died, and generous people took us in…traditions were forced on me again." I said. "I thought something was wrong with me when Viserys forced me to marry him. A Targaryen is supposed to be pure. To keep the dragon's blood and Valyrian bloodline pure as possible. But I was disgusted. Is that normal?"

"It is," Ser Jorah agreed. "Before Aegon's Conquest, the Faith and the old religion did not believe in incest. And it seems your brother has forgotten that your House is no longer pure since Viserys the First married Aemma Arryn and Alicent Hightower."

"May look like a dragon, but not a pure dragon," I murmured.

Ser Jorah nodded.

Having Ser Jorah as my confidant was reassuring. I can talk to him about personal matters that I cannot share with Daenerys or in my dreams with Visenya. Not until I reel in the charm. I question how long that string is since it feels like the charm is getting farther and farther away. Let alone, the dream happening once every fifth night. I'm starting to wonder if I'm going mad in believing these dreams. Anyway, Ser Jorah gave me his words of wisdom. Helping understand the world we live in. What he recalls of Westeros and the news he hears.

The people do not believe in who is in power. As Ser Jorah mentioned, the common folk pray about is for rain, health, and a summer that never ends. My sister and I are against the great houses, most of which despise us because of our family. If we bring the Dothraki to Westeros, then the Highborns will think low of us. If Viserys only listened to me, and arrange a marriage to a wealthy man who has an army or can afford an army, precisely the Golden Company. But the word _Warlord_ was enough for him, and brutality in fighting. I know Khal Drogo seeing him in private is good…but when he gave his speech, proclaiming his intentions…disturbs me.

"It's getting late, your grace, we should return," Ser Jorah suggested. "The lands are not safe at night."

I nodded as we pack our things and returned to the camp. When we arrived, the Warriors were excited, sharpening their weapons and making bows. Ser Jorah sighed as if knowing what this means.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"They are preparing for a raid," Ser Jorah answered.

"Oh," I replied, feeling my throat clenched.

"The women do not attend the raids," Ser Jorah promised. "I shall watch over you and your sister."

"It's not being attack that is the problem," I said.

Not sure if I want to attend the raid. Not wanting to see people turn into slaves.

**.o0o.**

The village that the Dothraki raided was a small village in Lhazar. The Lhazareen were not warriors, they were shepherds, peaceful people. Like the Dothraki who value horses, the Lhazareen see the importance in sheep, as their deity is known as the Great Shepard. Most areas were rich in resources that slaves were given; however, this was not a city or fertile land. It was a small village.

As the men pillage, the women waited outside with young warriors. My sister was almost seven months pregnant, as her belly was swollen. Currently Daenerys and I watched from a hill, seeing the hordes rushing in for the slaughter. Hearing the women and children screaming and men gasping their deaths. The Dothraki reminded me of the Ironborn, who pillage for the iron price than the golden price. Although they don't take slaves, they take prisoners for ransoms. The only slaves they do take were women to be their salt wives. It was all chaos and violence until the bloodriders return saying we are allowed to enter. Healthy women rushed to scavenge loose resources that they can carry.

Daenerys and I entered, with Aggo, Rakharo, Kovarro, Ser Jorah, and the three handmaidens behind us. Walking through the village, seeing people tied to poles, men being slaughtered, and bodies on the ground. Many of the Warriors were tearing down the sacred statues of the Great shepherds, and burning buildings. These acts were definition of what the Dothraki were.

"What did they do?" Daenerys asked.

"_Lamb men make good slaves,"_ Rakharo answered. "_Khal Drogo will make a gift of them to the slavers, and the slavers will give us gold…and silk, and steel."_

"I thought the Dothraki didn't believe in money," Daenerys said.

"Gold to hire ships, princess, ships to sail to Westeros." Ser Jorah explained.

We continue our walk, seeing the traumatize stares and women dragged about. The loud screaming and shrieks. I felt sick in my stomach, knowing this was not a raid of war, but a profit. Sicken by the practice of slavery. There was a pin where sheep are meant to be kept, now stocked with women young and old. Warriors grabbing them, as they try to resist knowing they were about to be rape.

Flashbacks from when I was raped by Viserys filled my head. After our argument when I returned from selling Mother's crown. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the room, tossing me on the bed ripping my clothes and taking me. I felt cold, my body shook from the traumatic memories.

"Alysanne," Daenerys called, placing her hand on my shoulder.

I pulled back snapping from the dark memories. "I need to go, I can't be here. I can't watch this."

Daenerys realizing what I meant scowled, "Jorah, make them stop."

"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked, glancing between Daenerys and me.

"You heard me," Daenerys confirmed.

"These men have shed blood for their khal. Now they claim their rewards," Ser Jorah explained.

"_She is a lamb girl, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor_," Rakharo said. "_If her wailing offends the Khaleesi, I will bring you her tongue."_

Ser Jorah came closer, "Princess, you have a gentle heart, but this is how it's always been."

"I do not have a gentle heart, ser," Daenerys snapped, then said in Dothraki. "_Do as I command, Khal Drogo will know the reason why."_

Rakharo, Aggo, and Kovarro walked over stopping the riders from raping the women. The riders were confused, wondering why their reward is being taken back. Mago was amongst them as he turned glaring at us. Ser Jorah noticed this and came over to talk reason. I looked at Daenerys confused since she has been talking about home and encouraged Drogo to march south and let him take the gifted slaves. Why the change of heart?

"Why?" I asked her.

"I saw you being raped, I will not allow any more women to be raped as well," Daenerys answered.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Ser Jorah helped a woman and brought her over to us, "What do you want done with them?"

"Bring her to me. And those women there," Daenerys ordered.

"You cannot claim them all princess," Ser Jorah warned.

"I can, and I will," Daenerys promised.

All the women of the village have been claimed for Daenerys. Many of the Dothraki warriors were furious, but they did not come to challenge her. Instead, they took their complaints to Khal Drogo. It wasn't long when we were summoned to the Temple of the Great Shepherd. Mago was giving his complaint to Drogo. The Great Khal listen from his seat of a ram statue, until seeing Daenerys entered the area with her women. Mago and other warriors glared at us.

"_Moon of my life,"_ Drogo greeted then said. "_Mago says you have taken his spoils, a daughter of a lamb man who was his to mount. Tell me the truth of this."_

"_Mago speaks the truth, my sun and stars_," Daenerys answered. _"I have claimed many daughters this day…so they cannot be mounted."_

Drogo sighed, "_This is the way of war. These women are slaves now…to do with as we please."_

"_It pleases me to keep them safe_," Daenerys reasoned. "_If your riders would mount them, let them take them for wives."_

"_Does the horse mate with lamb_?" Mago taunts bitterly.

"_The dragon feeds on horses and lambs alike_," Daenerys countered.

Mago glared at her, "_You are a foreigner. You do not command me_."

"_I am Khaleesi. I do command you_." Daenerys reminded.

Khal Drogo snickered, "_See how fierce she grows? That is my son inside her, the Stallion that will mount the world, filling her with his fire."_ He gave a nod, pleased of his wife's courage_. "I will hear no more. Mago, find somewhere else to stick your cock."_

Mago spat at Drogo's feet. This was an insult. Mago was a bloodrider, he is bound to obey his Khal. What he has done could punish him or kill him. He seemed not to care, drawing his arakh at Drogo.

"_A Khal who takes orders from a foreigner who is no Khal,"_ Mago insulted.

Ser Jorah, took Daenerys and me, pulling us back from a potential duel. The Exile Knight standing in front of us along with Rakharo and Kovarro. Qotho, Cohollo, and Haggo stepped forward drawing their blades; however, Drogo stopped them.

"_Ohos. Os,"_ Drogo ordered, which Qotho smirked as he the men stepped aside. Drogo held an intense glare. "_I will not have your body burned. I will not give you that honor."_

Drogo stood up holding his arakh. Mago lifted his own, placing the blade on Drogo's chest as a warning. Drogo seemed unfazed by it. Instead, shoved himself further causing a deeper cut.

"_The beetles will feed on your eyes,"_ Drogo promised, tossing his arakh to the side. "_The worms will crawl through your lungs. "_

Mago stepped back swinging at Drogo who easily dodged it. Over and over, Mago swung, and Drogo avoids it like it was some dance. He passed Mago, kicking him from behind that caused the bloodrider to stumbled. Drogo grabbed the knives from his leather belt and turned to face his opponent.

"_The rain will fall on your rotten skin…"_ Drogo continued, dropping his knives. "_Until nothing is left of you but bone."_

_What is he doing?_ I thought. Doesn't he need a weapon to defend himself?

Drogo lunged at Mago, who swung his arakh. It happened fast, seeing Mago impulsive offensive approach and Drogo taking the defensive maneuvers. That is when I realized what my brother-in-law was doing. He was tiring Mago out, witnessing the bloodrider exhorting so much energy into his attack causing the blade to be farther away from each strike.

"_First you have to kill me,"_ Mago challenged. Until there was a slow move, where the curve part of the arakh almost wrapped around Drogo's arm, except the Khal caught it. Mago's eyes widen staring at his Khal.

"_I already have,"_ Drogo said, twisting the arakh in a different angle causing Mago to let go and in a blink of an eye, sliced his throat. Drogo wasn't done yet, as he grabbed Mago by the neck and literally ranked his tongue out. Mago's body felled to the ground, dead. Drogo took his prized tongue and tossed it on a pile of heads. Cohollo and Haggo came over taking Mago's body away keeping to their Khals promise.

Daenerys caught her bearing and rushed over to her husband, checking his injury, "_My sun and stars is wounded."_

Drogo examined the wound and shrugged, "_A scratch…moon of my life."_ As he cradles her cheek.

"_Where are the healers_?" Daenerys requested.

"_This is a bite of a fly,"_ Drogo assured, declining medical attention.

Seeing from where I stand, all he needs is his wound clean and some stitching. If there are no healers, I might be able to mend him. Also, I never stitched human flesh before.

"_I can help the Great Rider with his cut,"_ one of the women said. She appeared middle age, with tangled black hair and copper skin.

"_The Khal needs no help from slaves who lies with sheep,"_ Qotho said, pointing the arakh at her.

"_She is mine. Let her speak," _Daenerys ordered.

"Thank you, silver lady," the women said, speaking in common tongue. She stepped forward, but Qotho pointed his weapon again.

"Who are you?" Daenerys asked.

"I am named Mirri Maz Duur. "I was the godswife of this temple."

_A septa_, I thought.

"_Witch,"_ Qotho corrected, spitting at her feet.

Mirri Maz Duur was cautious, "My mother was godswife here before me. She taught me how to make healing smokes and ointments. All men are of one flock, so my people believe. The Great Shepherd sent me to earth to heal his –"

Qotho slapped her, "_Too many words. A witch's words poison the ears."_

"Lamb or lion, his wound must be washed and sewn, or it will fester," Mirri Maz Duur said.

Daenerys turned to Drogo, "_Let her clean your wound, my sun and stars…it makes me hurt to see you bleed."_

Drogo looked at Daenerys then at Mirri Maz Duur. He sighed and nodded. The godswife came over to examined the wound. Something did not feel right about her. I get this dark atmosphere as if she holds no good intentions. Also, what Qotho called her, a witch. Let alone, the Khalasar raided her homes and attempted to rape her, and she offered her services to treat her capture. Something is not right.

So, when camp was made, in one of the stone houses as the godswife treated Drogo, Daenerys and I watched. Drogo was annoyed, almost like he wanted the scar. But he was doing it for his wife. Still uneasy about this woman, I had her use my sewing kit to seal the wound, and water from my waterskin. Daenerys scolded me to be respectful, yet logically doesn't make sense. Prisoners of war don't aid their enemies.

It wasn't until I saw Mirri Maz Duur pull out a canister with a paste that I stopped her.

"Alysanne, let her do her work," Daenerys yelled.

"What is in this?" I asked.

"Ointment, to heal the wound faster," the witch answered.

"And what is in it?" I asked.

"Alys, let her go," Daenerys said.

"Danny, she is a prisoner, why can't you see that," I explained.

"She is my daughter," Daenerys countered. "Now let her go."

"Danny, if you are smart listen to me," I pleaded.

"Leave," Daenerys demanded.

I sighed and looked at Drogo, "_Do not let her put poison on you. If you don't know what's in it, don't put it on."_

With nothing else to say I left. I pray to the Seven that they both listen and not allow Mirri Maz Duur to apply the ointment. Why can't Daenerys see reason? The Dothraki invaded this village on the intentions of gathering slaves and raping women. So why is Mirri Maz Duur offering service to the man who leads the raid?

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 9: The Consequences of Magic

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Consequences of Magic**

In the dream I fiddle the string having so much on my mind that I don't want to wake up. I was mad at Daenerys for not listening to me. At first, Drogo heed my advice and did not let Mirri Maz Duur put the ointment on his wound. He was fine, stating he wanted the scar, prove and show his men what happens to those who defy him. Once more, Daenerys was naïve of the world we live in. War holds violence, and violence carries consequences. Drogo made a choice, and yet Daenerys applied the ointment has he slept. The Great Khal sighed, willing to let his wife treat him. But lately, on our travels, he has become unwell. At first, he seemed to have a cold, yet holding a masculine pride he shrugged it off saying winds were changing. But knew that was not the case.

"Your sister needs to learn for herself," Visenya said, sitting beside Vhagar stoking his neck.

"Even if it kills Drogo?" I asked.

"It's a rude awakening," Visenya answered. "Aegon dealt the same consequence when sending Rhaenys to Dorne. I told them not to send her down south alone, with a small army. In the end, it took one arrow to strike Meraxes down and take my sister's life. Her body was never recovered. Only Meraxes skull when Dorne offered peace to end countless years of war. I too learned it as well, when my son Maegor fought in the Trial by Seven. Twenty-eight days of a coma, until the thirtieth day, did he wake."

The was a proud and disappointed expression written on her face, "I raised a warrior, putting a sword in his hand at the age of three. Rhaenys's son was weak, and I was angry at Aegon for making my sweet sister a sister-wife. All that I have done for him, and yet he sees my bed once a month. I was his first wife and yet the second gets it all. Out of that pride and honor, my son became what I wanted. Yet the gods punished me for seeing a reason from a dead bloodline. Now I wait, learning the errors of my way to enlighten potential Targaryens of greatness."

"Rhaegar was one," I said.

"And he drew the sword," Visenya said.

"What about my parents?" I asked her.

Visenya remained quiet.

"Did my parents come to you?" I asked her again.

"They did not," Visenya answered. "Madness consumed your father, as the coin landed it so. As your mother…though determined as she was in her youth with potential…she was no longer worthy when his brother-husband broke her spirit."

So, madness is not allowed. Are the Targaryens known for Greatness came from Visenya wisdom? As she states, she his bound in the realm to correct her mistake. I try to recall any ancestors who achieved such greatness.

"Come, let me show you a vision of one." She said, jumping off the boulder.

She led the way to Dragonstone to the raven's tower. There was an apparition of a frail old man with short white hair and white eyes. Dressed in a black robe with chains. A Maester. He seemed to be having a conversation with someone, but there is no one.

"This is a memory, he is the second longest living Targaryen alive in Westeros," Visenya said. "One I am proud to mentor as he understands honor and duty. Listen to him, he will tell you the importance in your fate."

I was confused, yet stood there watching the one-sided conversation of the man. Wondering who could still be alive of the Dragon. Other than long distance relatives of Targaryen women who married out.

"The gods were cruel when they saw fit to test my vows. They waited till I was old. What could I do when the ravens brought the news from the South – the ruins of my house, the death of my family? I was helpless, blind, frail. But when I heard they had killed my brother's son and his poor son…and the children! Even the little children."

"Who are you?" I asked aloud.

"My father was Maekar, the First of His Name. My brother Aegon reigned after him when I had refused the throne. And he was followed by his son Aerys, who they called the Mad King."

"He's Aemon Targaryen," Visenya said. "And his charm was the Maesters."

"I'm a Maester of the Citadel, bound in service to Castle Black and the Night's Watch. I will not tell you to stay or go. You must make the choice yourself, and live with it for the rest of your days." Aemon said as he came over resting his hand on my shoulder. "As I have."

Nothing else to say, he left the bird tower. I was astonished to learn that Daenerys and I were not the last of the Targaryens. Our Great-Great-Granduncle was still alive. A member of the Night's Watch, yet alive. Ser Willem mentioned the Night's Watch, a brotherhood who guard the Wall, made out of ice against wildlings and dark entities from the past. Still, what Aemon said about the choice we make, the sacrifices of duty and honor when fate decides of who lives and who dies. Aemon could have broken his vows and rebelled in the name of our family to avenge those who died in the sacking. Instead, bound by a sacred duty of Maester and Crow, he could not.

"He accepted the consequences of his decisions. You and your sister must do the same," Visenya said. "Even if it cost a life."

I nodded, dreading what's to come.

"Who was he talking too?" I asked.

"A boy who cannot attend a war with his family," she answered.

"Is there another war rising in Westeros?" I asked.

"There will be," she confirmed. "A wasteful one, not as important than what's to come."

"What is to come?" I asked, annoyed. "What are you preparing me for?"

She paused looking me in the eyes, "History repeats itself. One long before the Targaryens and Andals arrived."

With that said she left. Her way of ending the conversation. Realizing the dream must come to an end, I return to the beach to reel another foot of string. Just as I was on the last inch for the night, I looked at Vhagar.

"Is she always this complicated?" I asked.

Vhagar merely shrugged.

Sighing, I reeled the last of the foot's string and woken up in my tent. The dream was elaborate, though irritated in what Visenya wanted from me, it was comforting that in the dream I wasn't the last pure Targaryen. Hopefully, I can return to Westeros and see Aemon. Meet him once at least to understand his side of the story.

Anyway, I got up and prepared for the journey. Once dressed and packed, the Dothraki came to dismantle my tent. It wasn't long that the Khalasar made haste towards the south. I rode beside Daenerys, though we did not share a conversation. It was a long journey, entering a desert land. For miles, it was flat beige with a burst of dry grass. Far off in the distance were hills and mountains. The weather dry, small winds were blowing. The sky partly clouded that shelter us from the blazing sun.

Up ahead was Drogo leading the Khalasar. It has been three weeks since his duel with Mago. His condition worsens, for he shudders from the cold wrapping a blanket over him. Later, he was slouching.

"_My lord…My sun and stars…"_ Daenerys called out. "_Drogo_."

Suddenly Drogo felled off his horse. Daenerys and I immediately unmounted and rushed to his side. Not a second longer the bloodriders were there.

"_Sajo anni. My horse…"_ Drogo muttered.

"_Blood of my blood…"_ Cohollo said, taking Drogo's hand

"_No, I must ride,"_ Drogo mumbled.

I felt his forehead realizing he was burning up. Next, I lifted the bandages to get a better look of the wound. The cut, once nicely stitched now open and festered. A foul stench coming off it with puss and the ointment once grey had turned black. This was poison.

"_He fell from his horse,"_ Qotho announced. _"A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal."_

"_He's tired, that's all. He needs to rest,"_ Daenerys reasoned. _"We've ridden far enough for today. We'll camp here."_

"_This is no place to camp_," Qotho countered. He was right, there was no grass for the horses or water for the Khalasar. Supposedly, there is a lake on the other side of this vast land. It makes appeared a few miles, but Ser Jorah warned in Lhazar more mirages will trick the mind about distance.

Qotho continued_, "A woman does not give us orders, not even a Khaleesi."_

"_We'll camp here. Tell them Khal Drogo commanded it,"_ Daenerys calmly said.

"_You do not command me Khaleesi,"_ Qotho said

"_A Khaleesi who carried the Stallion that will mount the world,"_ I challenged. "_The Dosh Khaleen foretold. Dare deny the High Priestess prophecy!"_

Qotho scowled but knew it is rude to disregard the Dosh Khaleen.

"_Find Mirri Maz Duur. Bring her to me,"_ Daenerys command.

"_The Witch? I bring you her head, Khaleesi,"_ Qotho offered.

"_Bring her to me unharmed, or Khal Drogo will hear why you defied me,"_ Daenerys warned.

Qotho glared at her before leaving on his horse to fetch the godswife. I examined Drogo again. Unless there was an antidote to the poison the witch has used, the Great Khal Drogo is most likely to be dead. Qotho and I saw through the façade. Understanding that a prisoner of war wouldn't so willingly offer service to the leader of the Dothraki after the Khalasar raided her village.

Staring at my sister, she realized her mistake.

**.o0o.**

Immediately camp was assembled as Drogo with the assistance of Cohollo and Haggo into the tent to protect their Khal's honor. Daenerys, Irri, Doreah, and I tried to keep Drogo comfortable. While Daenerys wiped the sweat off her husband's face, I took some fresh rags and water from my water skin to cleanse the wound. To remove what remains of the poison paste as possible. When I removed it, the damage was done? The bacteria in the ointment did not prevent the fester of an infection, it was the infection in the ointment. Eating away at his skin, turning the exposed blood black.

Irri provided a poultice that I apply to the wound to alleviate the inflammation and absorb some of the toxins. I didn't bother saying "I told you so," as her expression says it all. We are west of Esso where honor, duty, and vows were kept to the highest regards. We are in the middle of a continent, near the south where it is about survival. My tutor mentioned the far east you go, more dangerous it becomes.

"_Doth – Dothrae…"_ Drogo mumble in his fever. "_ki ha – hammi…ish nokitta… qana'th.."_

Daenerys sighed, cradling his cheek.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah announced entering the tent.

Daenerys wiped her tears away, "Come."

Ser Jorah walked in seeing the terrible state Drogo was in.

"He's very strong," Daenerys said, still in denial. "No one understands how strong he is."

Ser Jorah sat down next to me, placing a hand on mine to lift the poultice to expose the deadly infection. He kept a neutral expression, but his eyes said it all. Drogo was a dead man. I was unable to say the words, yet he kindly did.

"He will die tonight, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah declared.

"He can't," Daenerys refused to believe, staring at her husband. "I won't let him."

"Even a queen doesn't have that power," Ser Jorah murmured, then got up. "We must go quickly. I've heard there's a good port in Asshai—"

"I won't leave him," She interrupted.

"Danny, he's dying. His spirit leaving the body as it tries to fight off the infection for it to go." I tried to reason.

"Even if –" She started, holding a sob. "—even if he dies, why would I run. I am Khaleesi, and my son – my son will be Khal after Drogo."

"This isn't Westeros where men honor blood. Here they only honor strength. There will be fighting after Drogo dies." Ser Jorah explained. "Whoever wins that fight will be the new Khal. He won't want any rivals. Your boy will be plucked from your breast and given to the dogs."

"I won't leave him," Daenerys said.

Mirri Maz entered the tent along with Qotho. The bloodrider expressed sorrow for his leader, until masking it. The godswife came over removing the poultice.

"The wound has festered," Mirri Maz declared.

"_You did this witch,"_ Qotho accused, drawing his dagger.

"_Stop it!"_ Daenerys ordered. "_I don't want her hurt."_

"_No! No! You don't want her hurt?"_ Qotho corrected. "_Pray we don't hurt you, too. You let this witch put her hands on our Khal."_ Then kicked the godswife.

"_Rein in your tongue. She is still your Khaleesi,"_ Ser Jorah warned.

"_Only while the blood of my blood lives_!" Qotho yelled, then took a deep breath. "_When he dies, she is nothing."_

Daenerys scowled as she stood up struggling with her bump, "_I have never been nothing. I am the blood of the dragon."_

"_The dragons are all dead, Khaleesi,"_ Qotho taunted, then left.

I took a deep breath considering his taunt as a threat. I looked at the exiled knight, "I think you should wear your armor tonight, ser."

"I think you are right, your grace," Ser Jorah replied, as he left to prepare for the inevitable.

I followed him, needing to get my vest. Once outside I pulled him to the side, "Have the horses and supplies ready. Find the most loyal, if it comes to a fight, I need your help to get my sister and her unborn child out."

"She belongs to the Dosh Khaleen," Ser Jorah said. "Her child is dead after disregarding Qotho."

"Please, I beg you," I whispered. "Must I be the last of my house?"

Ser Jorah looked at me seeing how determined I was in protecting my sister. He nodded and left to do as I ask. I rushed to my tent getting my armor vest on, and a satchel filled with the necessities. The Targaryen sword, strapped to my waist, before returning to the Khal's tent. I swore to protect my sister. Now I must do it again.

Just as I entered, I saw a smirk on Mirri Maz face. She intended Drogo's death. So, when Daenerys went to get more fresh water with Doreah, I looked at the witch.

"Do you know of my family?" I asked her.

"You are of old Valyria, land of the dragons," Mirri Maz answered.

"But you do know of my family?" I asked again.

"I do not," Mirri Maz confessed.

I grabbed her roughly in the face glaring into her eyes, "I come from a dangerous line of dragon riders. We are Targaryens, and our motto is _'Fire and Blood.'_ If he dies both body and spirit, so shall you. It is not Qotho you should be afraid. It is me, and I will keep that promise of your death. Do you understand?"

She did not respond as I dug my nails into her cheek, "Back in my country, we burn witches. There will be no quick death. Do harm to my family, and I'll make you suffer."

Her dark eyes widen grasping the fact I meant it. All she could do was nod. I let go of her cheek and sat across from her with my hand over the pommel. Watching every move, she made in curing Drogo. The Great Khal broke tradition for me after Viserys died. He could have tossed me out of Vaes Dothrak and his khalasar or even given me to his men. Instead, he welcomes me as a member and offered protection that no man could harm me. It's the least I can do in ensuring that he tries to survive from the witch's curse.

Daenerys soon returned. Unaware of what transpired in here.

"He's beyond the healer's skills," Mirri Maz announced. "All I can do is ease his path."

"Save him, and I will free you. I swear it," Daenerys promised. "You must know a way…some…some magic."

Mirri Maz stopped what she was doing and looked at her, "There is a spell. Some would say death is cleaner."

Daenerys frowned as she cradles Drogo's cheek. "Do it. Save him."

"There is a price," she warned.

"You'll have gold – whatever you want," Daenerys offered.

"It's not a matter of gold. This is blood magic," She warned again. "Only death pays for life."

"Dany, stop and think," I told her.

However, she did not listen, "My death?"

"No. Not your death, Khaleesi," the witch said, then thought of something. "Bring me his horse."

Daenerys nodded to Doreah to do so.

I grabbed Daenerys pulling her away, "Sister, please listen to me. She is the cause of Drogo's death. Don't fall for her tricks."

"I can't lose him, Alysanne. I love him, he is my sun and stars," she cried.

"Drogo wouldn't want this. He would want you to live and continue his promise for his child." I tried to reason. "Your child is possibly the heir we need to gather more forces. If the Iron Throne is what you want for him, you must let go of Drogo. Please, I beg you from the Mother and the Father and seek the Crone's wisdom not to do this. Magic holds consequences."

Unfortunately, Daenerys shoved me away. Her mind was made up. She made her choice to fall into the dark arts of blood magic. In stories and books, they all state the same thing. Magic must be obtained through sacrifice. Although sacrifice is vague from the purpose of life either it is time or the essences of living…it was dangerous. Far dangerous than wildfire itself. An unknown realm that only the Gods can understand.

When they brought Drogo's horse, the animal was resisting. It too can sense evil, trying to escape. Cohollo and Haggo held the reins tightly, bringing the black stallion over till its neck hover over Khal Drogo's body. Sparks from the fire pit erupted as Mirri Maz Duur draws a bronze dagger. Rakharo pushed Daenerys away from the frightened horse.

"Khaleesi, do not do this thing." Rakharo pleaded. "Let me kill this witch."

"Kill her, and you kill your Khal," Daenerys growled.

"This is blood magic. It is forbidden," Rakharo tried to explain.

"I am your Khaleesi. I tell you what is forbidden," Daenerys said

Mirri Maz Duur cut her thumb and pressed the blood on her forehead. She started incanting in a different tongue. One similar to Valyrian and Dothraki but different. She walked around the horse. Taking hold of the reins, soothing the animal. She turned to us. "Go now."

"Take her and leave," Daenerys said, referring to Irri. Rakharo refused as she ordered, "Take her!"

Unable to refuse his Khaleesi, Rakharo escorted Irri out.

"You must also go, lady," the witch said. "Once I begin to sing, no one must enter the tent. The dead will dance here tonight."

Daenerys looked at Drogo who lied unconscious unaware in what is happening. My sister cradled his cheek and looked at the witch, "No one will enter. Go, sister."

"Daenerys," I pleaded.

"Go!" she yelled.

_Let her understand the consequences,_ Visenya's voice whispered.

Taking a deep breath, I left the tent not wanting to associate myself with blood magic. The moment I was three feet out, the horse wailed in pain. Singing followed as Daenerys came out face covered in blood. Shock written on her face. The Dothraki gasped in horror, not understanding what is going on. At the tent, the singing grew louder. Ser Jorah, dressed in armor walked over to Daenerys.

"What have you done?"

"I have to save him," she panted, wobbling on her feet.

Ser Jorah and I caught her, "We could have been ten miles away from here by now on the way to Asshai. You girls would have been safe."

Daenerys groaned as we took her to sit on something.

Out of nowhere, there was a demonic shriek. The wind stops, the heat of the sun vanished. All the horses and animals grew quiet. The camp was engrossed with silence. Engulfed in fear. The first person to speak was Qotho, marching in with his arakh in hand.

"_This must not be. This must not be,"_ Qotho demanded.

"_This must be_," Daenerys panted.

"_Witch_!" Qotho accused.

"_Mra qothoon vosaan—"_ Rakharo tried to explain, resting on the bloodrider's shoulder. Only to receive an elbow t the face knocking him down.

Qotho started walking towards the test, but Daenerys stepped forward, _"No, you can't!"_

The bloodrider, roughly shoved Daenerys to the ground causing her to land on her belly. I gasped, rushing over, turning her to the side. Not caring what is happening in the tent, but my sister physical wellbeing. The impact of the fall could cause severe damage to the womb.

The only person who dare challenged him was Ser Jorah, drawing his sword, "_No further, horselord."_

Qotho stopped at the entrance glaring at Ser Jorah. Not a second without hesitation, the rider charged at the knight. They fought, Qotho managing to cut Jorah's cheek. The rider understanding that the only vulnerable spot was Ser Jorah's head. He jumped and swung high, as Jorah tried to block him. One attack knocked the exiled knight down, but he managed to stand up. Both had their blades reading. Qotho attacked, as Jorah tangle his sword in the arakh pushing it away. Qotho retracted swinging to the side, wrapping it around the breastplate, Jorah lowered his arm securing it and took the opening of slicing the bloodrider's face. Blood gushed as Qotho fell to his death.

Daenerys then cried, in pain. Checking her condition, seeing a puddle forming. Shit, her water broke. Ser Jorah sheathed his sword and came over.

"Is she hurt?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Her water broke. The baby's coming…" I answered. "Help me get her to my tent."

"Hmm?" he replied shocked then looked at Irri. "Fetch the midwives."

"They will not come," Rakharo said, helping in picking Daenerys up. "They say she is cursed."

"They'll come, or I'll have their heads," I threaten.

Ser Jorah rushed in taking Daenerys to my tent setting her on the makeshift cot. I told Jhiqui and Doreah fetch fresh water and linens. Any clean fabrics. They nodded, doing so. In the background, I could hear the witch's enchantment. Ignoring her songs, I ripped the bottom of Daenerys dress to see how far along she was.

"Do you know what you are doing?" Ser Jorah asked, turning away to give Daenerys decency.

"Back in Lys, I helped the midwives in delivering our hosts' babies," I answered. "I must try to save her and the baby."

Deep down I knew there were four options. I either save them both, save the child or the mother, or both shall die. Daenerys cried out in pain, as one midwife who had enough courage to help the Khaleesi. Jhiqui, Irri, and Doreah lend their support in delivering the child. It was tedious, a struggle since Daenerys was pushing when she shouldn't. I told her to stop, for the midwife noticed something was wrong. Something was caught in the vagina. The midwife said she can't pull it out while keeping the head supported. Removing my riding gloves, I listen to her instructions that Irri translated and apologized to Daenerys for the pain I'm about to give her.

Slowly, I inserted my hand underneath the child inside the vagina. Daenerys wailed in agony, lulling her head back. Biting my lips, seeing more blood seeping out, trying to adjust the baby's shoulders. I felt blood, flesh, and muscle, but a new texture that should not be in the birth canal. It felt like wet leather. Ignoring it, I slowly guided the baby on the next contraction. It gushes out, landing into my arms. Daenerys painted falling unconscious. The Midwife paid more attention to treating Daenerys, seeing a large tear from the delivery.

I looked down examining the child. The child was red, covered his fluid and blood. Dark curls on the top of his head. But something was wrong, wiping the blood away seeing scales on his body. However, that was no concern, since he was not breathing. I tipped him leaning over to suck his nose to get the fluid out. I spat it out; still, he wasn't breathing. So, I turned him over and smack his bum hoping the pain will make him cry. He did not.

"Come on, Rhaego," I begged, doing another spank to wake him.

Still, the little one did not cry. Turning him over again, I took a deep breath and breathed into his nose and mouth to get air in his lungs. After a few tries, I placed my hand on his chest remember the slave in Volantis and pounded his chest. Twenty attempts, I did the breathing technique. Once more he did not breathe. Ten minutes later, the midwife stopped me.

"_Died in womb,"_ She whispered, as she handed a small blanket.

Holding back tears, I accepted that my nephew was a stillborn. He died by the witch's spell and Qotho solidifying his death. Carefully I wrapped him up, seeing the horror that the witch has done to Rhaego. A sweet child covered partially in scales, a stub of a tail, and small leather wings. I cried, though body deformed, his face was still human. A soft angelic face, having his father's hair and mother's nose.

The handmaidens and midwife attended on Daenerys to remove the placenta and cut the umbilical cord. The midwife taking needle and thread to stitch up the tearing. Once that was done, she left along with the handmaidens to retrieve fresh supplies. Daenerys laid in bed unconscious, the pain from the delivery and Rhaego's wings caused damage. Her skin was paled and flush, breathing sharpen and irregular. There was nothing I could do. Fearing, I will be the last Targaryen in Essos. Fearing I will be alone.

"Alysanne?" Ser Jorah called out.

"Enter," I whispered.

Ser Jorah entered seeing the blood everywhere and Daenerys asleep. He looked at me sitting on the ground with the swaddled child.

"The baby?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Stillborn."

He sighed, as he knelt down about to take Rhaego out of my hands, but I stopped him. No, he will not be tossed and fed to the hounds. We are not Dothraki. We were Westerosi, we cremate or bury stillborn. Not feed them to the animals. Also, I did not want him to see Rhaego's dragon traits.

"She cursed him," I whispered.

"What?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Mirri Maz Duur cursed the child. A death for a life, and deformed him into a dragon." I answered. "Once the witch is done, you and the Khas take her and tie her up. When Daenerys wakes, the witch will die for what she has done."

"Alysanne," Ser Jorah said, resting his hand on my shoulder. "If Daenerys doesn't wake, we need to leave."

"I pray she does," I whispered, looking at her. "Go."

Ser Jorah sighed as he stood up to do as I command. Once he was gone, I took Daenerys's hand while holding Rhaego. Closing my eyes, I sobbed, softly singing the _Song of the Seven_. Praying the gods to take good care of Rhaego's soul in the afterlife. Or the Great Stallion taking him to his father in the Night Sky.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	10. Chapter 10: Fire and Blood

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Fire and Blood**

Majority of the Khalasar was gone. They left abandoning Khal Drogo in search of new Khalasar or somewhere else to perform the ultimate duel to create the new Khal. Leaving a hundred or so who remain for Khal Drogo. The Loyalist.

Ser Jorah informed me the witch was tied to the post heavily guarded. When I ask him what has become of Drogo? The exile knight was hesitant to answer. He stated that Drogo was alive physically, but there is no soul inside him. A trick on words, of Mirri Maz Duur, promised of saving Drogo. I would have gone up and killed the witch, but her life belongs to Daenerys.

For two days, I took care of Daenerys as she went through a fever. An infection from giving birth. She mumbled Drogo and Rhaego's name. Saying "my son." I wasn't sure how to explain this to her once she wakes. Only wipe the sweat away and keep her hydrated. It wasn't long when her fever broke that she sat up confused.

"Alysanne?" a soft voice whispered.

I snapped from my train of thought and looked to see Daenerys was awake. I moved closer to her taking her hand. Helping her sitting up properly.

"My son…where is he? I want to see him," Daenerys requested. "Where is he?"

"Danny, Rhaego did not make it," I said.

"Tell me," she mumbled, then yelled. "How did my son die?!"

I took a deep breath, "He was stillborn. The midwife believes that the impact from your fall by Qotho rupture the placenta. But that is not all…"

"What else?!" She cried.

"When you made that deal…the witch put a curse on his form. His face is handsome…but…his body is that of a dragon."

"I don't understand," she cried.

"Would you like to see him in his eternal sleep?" I offered since Daenerys is one to learn things the hard way.

She nodded. I got up and went to the bassinet where Rhaego was. Decay has not hindered him yet, so his face remained at peace. Bringing him over, I carefully settle him in his mother's arm. Daenerys held her son and sobbed holding her stillborn. When she removed the blanket, her eyes widen in seeing the wings and tail. But the shock lasted a moment, as the Mother gave her love, to embrace the child she lost. It would be an hour when she came back to her senses and looked at me.

"Where is Khal Drogo?" Daenerys sobbed. "Show him to me. Show me what I bought with my son's life."

"Time enough for that later –" I tried to reason since she needs to recover.

"I want to see him now," Daenerys snapped.

Sighing, I obliged taking Rhaego and swaddle him up and place him in the bassinet. Next, helped Daenerys into a new skirt, before helping her up and leading the way. Once we were outside, Ser Jorah who stood out on watch aided us. Daenerys looked around seeing the numbers dropped in the population.

"The Khalasar is gone," she mumbled.

"A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal. The Dothraki follow only the strong," Ser Jorah reminded. "I'm sorry, princess."

We took her where Khal Drogo was. He was on the edge of the cliff, laying down watching the sun over the horizon. When she saw her husband, she rushed over to his side. That is when she noticed the change in personality. He laid there, gazing ahead, eyes still open hardly blinking.

She cradles his face, "My sun and stars. Why is he out here alone?"

"He seems to like the warmth, Princess," Ser Jorah answered.

Daenerys kissed Drogo, yet there was no response. She turned to us confused wondering why he wasn't still alive. She asked us, which neither Ser Jorah, Rakharo, Irri, or I could answer. This was blood magic, dark magic, and we have no knowledge of the forbidden arts.

"I want to see her," Daenerys demanded.

We nodded, taking her to the pole where Mirri Maz Duur was tied too. She sat on the ground exhausted, yet her eyes focused on the horizon with ease. We kept her alive, so she doesn't die from sunstroke, but limit her resources. The witch looked up at Daenerys with a soft satisfied smile.

"I warned you that only death can pay for life. You knew the price," Mirri Maz said. "He lives. You asked for life, you paid for life."

"This is not life. When will he be as he was?" Daenerys demanded.

"When the sun rises in the west, sets in the east. When the seas go dry. When the mountains blow in the winds likes leaves."

"Leave us," Daenerys said.

"I don't want you alone with this witch," I told her.

"Then you stay," Daenerys said, and looked at the others. "Go."

Ser Jorah, Irri, and Rakharo left leaving us with the witch. The witch merely smiled at us, pleased with what she has done.

"You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price," Daenerys seethed.

"It was wrong of them to burn my temple. It angered the Great Shepherd."

"This is not God's work," Daenerys snapped. "My child was innocent."

"Innocent?" Mirri Maz questioned. "He would have been the stallion who mounts the world. Now he will burn no cities. Now his khalasar will trample no nations into dust."

"We would've taken him home to the far west. To Westeros, where our kingdom awaits," I corrected. "Essos would've been safe. Did your Great Shepherd ever told you that?"

Mirri Maz sighed.

"I spoke for you. I saved you." Daenerys said.

"Saved me?" Mirri Maz chuckled. "Three of those riders had already raped me before you saved me, girl. I saw my God's house burn, there where I had healed men and women beyond counting. In the streets saw piles of heads—the head of the baker who makes my bread, the head of a young boy that I had cured of fever just three moons past. So, tell me again exactly what it was that you saved."

"Your life," Daenerys answered.

"Hmph," the witch replied. "Why don't you take a look at your Khal, then you will see exactly what life is worth when all the rest has gone."

Daenerys paused comprehending her words. Until realizing the choice she made in life and death. The consequences of what slavery has done. This is what Viserys had wanted, to conquer and slaughter those to reach the Iron Throne. The method of the Dothraki. But it wasn't her. It wasn't us. Still, we cannot let this witch go unpunished. She'd stolen two lives from our family. If she was going to teach us a lesson about an eye for an eye, then we will give her the same lesson.

"Fire and blood," I told her. "Revenge ends bitterly."

Nothing else to say, we left her to burn in the sun. Daenerys ordered her loyal khass to bring Drogo inside. She went into my tent to collect Rhaego and joined her personal family in her tent. I stood there watching her. Afraid in the decisions she has to make. Sooner or later, Rhaego must be put to rest before his body starts to decay from the exposure. Drogo on the other hand, his body was alive, but he was on a living vessel. My sweet sister will have to make the ultimate sacrifice, and it's something I can help her with.

"My Queen," Ser Jorah said, approaching me. "What are your orders?"

I took a deep breath, "We should prepare a pyre just in case."

"As you command," Ser Jorah said. "Go and rest, you haven't slept in days."

Knowing he was right, I return to my tent to rest knowing a funeral will take place.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

The rest of the day, Daenerys remained in her tent with her husband and child. Her heart broken in the choices she made in the past several months. All she could think about was going home and putting her son on the Iron Throne. Drogo's war omens telling him to sail west to reclaim what has been stolen from his wife. But seeing the Dothraki raid, and the consequences of what people would do out an act of vengeance.

She scolded herself for not listening to Alysanne; not to listen to Mirri Maz Duur. Why would a prisoner of war offer service to the man who raided their villages? The young dragoness thought the witch did it out of gratitude for saving her life, sparing her from suffering and rape. But she was wrong, the witch did it out of revenge and used blood magic to both Drogo and Rhaego.

Daenerys knew she can't carry Drogo around the world. A painful sacrifice, one she is aware of considering. To let go of her love, so he doesn't have to suffer anymore. A cut. A cut covered in an ointment of poison was his downfall. And she was the one who applied the poison on his wound. Daenerys looked at Rhaego in her arms. Tears were forming, guilty that she caused his deformity and death. Though beautiful as his wings are, and the sweet angelic face…the world would reject him.

She kissed her son's head and rest him in his crib before taking a basin filled with water, cleansing Drogo's body. In her last attempts, she talked to Drogo hopping a memory could snap him out of this.

"_Do you remember our first ride, my sun, and stars_?" she asked him, washing his arm. _"If you are in there, if you haven't fine away, show me. You're a fighter. You've always been a fighter. I need you to fight now."_

There was no response.

"_I know you're very far away, but come back to me, my sun and stars,"_ she pleaded, cradling his cheek.

Once more there was no response. The mirth in his brown eyes was gone. Empty eyes gazing at the fabric of the tent. Daenerys accepted that her husband was indeed dead. She finished washing his body and dried it off before curling up to his form like they used to at night. Her hands tracing his chest, yet tears drench them.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east…" Daenerys sobbed. "…then you shall return to me, my sun and stars."

Daenerys leaned up giving him one final kiss. Reaching over she grabbed a pillow, slowly bringing it up to his face. Hoping that he could stop her. Just as she brought the pillow, she sobbed pressing down to suffocate him. To put an end to his misery. Deep down, she hopes the resistance to survive will wake him. Drogo snapping out his trance to stop her. In the end, his body twitched, convulsing slightly except it did not resist. When he stopped moving, Daenerys wailed, having her first official kill.

Soft whispers echo the room as she looked trying to find its source. Violet eyes landed on the eggs, they were calling to her to be awakened.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

By night the pyre was assembled for a Dothraki Funeral. A great square made from wood, in the middle was the Khal's slain horse is position. Over the horse, the platform is constructed on which the Khal will lay. The platform was put from east to west, from sunrise to sunset. Three rings surround the platform that joined together. As I predicted, Daenerys ended Drogo's life. It was a hard time, as I comforted her, while the people put Drogo's body up with Rhaego across his chest in a protective hold. Their heads in the direction of the Mother of Mountains. Their treasures, offerings, and supplies assembled for the two's long ride in the Night Lands. They are at peace and soon will be with their ancestors.

Daenerys stood dressed in her wedding gown with her braided. She brought another offering to join the funeral pyre. It was the dragon eggs. Rakharo looked at her one last time silently asking her if she was sure.

"_Is this your command, Khaleesi?"_ Rakharo asked her.

Daenerys nodded, which her khas set them up, being careful not to disturb the dead.

"Drogo will have no use for dragon eggs in the night lands," Ser Jorah said, joining us. "Sell them. You two can return to the Free Cities and live as wealthy women for all your days."

"They were not given to me to sell," Daenerys murmured, focused on the pyre.

"Khaleesi, my queen, I vow to serve both of you, obey you, to die for you if need be, but let him go." Ser Jorah said. "I know what you intend. Do not."

"I must," she said.

Realizing what she was intending, I grabbed her glaring into her eyes. "No. You will not. I will not lose you."

"You don't understand, Alysanne." She said.

"Don't ask me to stand aside as you climb on that pyre," I growled. "I won't watch you burn. Mother, Father, Rhaegar, Viserys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia are dead. I can't lose you. I won't allow it."

"Is that what you fear?" Daenerys asked. "To be alone. You won't be alone. You will go home as queen."

She cradles my cheek and pecks me on the lips. I was bewildered not sure what is going on inside her head. Daenerys turned around facing the people.

"You will be my khalasar. I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one will stop you." Daenerys said to them. "But if you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, as husbands and wives."

Several got up and left. Mirri Maz Duur who was on her knees tied up with Kovarro restraining her softly laughed.

"Ser Jorah, bind this woman to the pyre," Daenerys ordered.

Ser Jorah looked at her debating.

"You swore to obey me," she reminded.

The exiled knight sighed, as he took custody of the witch and tied her up to the pyre as promised. She turned her head begging for help, but none dare lend aid. Fire and Blood that is what I promised her in the deception she played. She killed Drogo and Rhaego, and as punishment, she will burn with them. As Irri stated, she will forever be a slave in the afterlife. The Khals shall punish her soul for all eternity.

"I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen of the blood of Valyria. I am the dragon's daughter. And I swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming," Daenerys promised.

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri Maz challenged.

"I will," Daenerys said. "But it is not your screams I want. Only your life."

Ser Jorah returned standing right beside me. Rakharo handed Daenerys the torch as she walked over. Kneeling, she lit the outer ring. The fire consumed the branches, eating away till reaching the second ring, and finally the third ring where the pyre was. Mirri Maz Duur started to sing in Lhazareen, praying to her god the Great Shepherd. But he will not come. A shepherd does not protect the lone sheep. By the time the fire reaches her, the witch had started wailing in agony. I looked at Daenerys, as she pulled at me before she started walking towards the pyre.

"Daenerys, don't!" I screamed, rushing to stop her. However, Ser Jorah wrapped his arms around me preventing me from going into the flames.

She turned around whispering, "I love you."

Until climbing up the ladder and laid beside her family. The witch's wails go silent, and mine echoed seeing my sister burn in the fire. I sobbed, falling to my knees with Ser Jorah still restraining me while giving comfort. I was alone. I was the last Targaryen. All my life I have given it to her. Protect her from the cruel world we lived in. Protect her from the traditions of our ancestors. But I could not protect her from her self.

I sobbed, crying alone in this world. My family was dead. Other than Aemon who is a sworn Maester of the Night's Watch…all living Targaryens are dead. Madness won. I wailed, sobbed, and cried into Ser Jorah's chest, unable to watch the burning of the pyre. The exile knight wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm alone," I sobbed.

"You are not, Alysanne," he murmured. "I swore to protect you. Blood of my blood."

I nodded until exhaustion took hold of me.

**.o0o.**

I open my eyes to find myself in Dragonstone. I fell on my knees and sobbed, still envisioning my sister's death. Unable to continue, not wanting to reel the simple charm to know my fate. Everything hurts like someone shoved their hand inside my chest and yanked it out.

It wasn't long when Visenya arrived with a sadden look. She came over and did the unexpected, by hugging me. I sobbed, wrapping my arms around her.

"She made her choice," Visenya murmured. "As hard as it is to lose a sister, we must let them go."

"I promised to protect her," I cried.

"As did I with Rhaenys," she murmured. "But the naïve must grow up and decide."

Visenya sighed, as she helped me stand up and lead the way to the beach where Dark Sister and Vhagar reside. Vhagar was acting up. Usually, he would sit there and watch. Or joined a conversation through body language. They say dragons were intelligent as dogs. But Visenya says that is not true. They were like humans, start off impulsive as any baby and toddler until they bond with their rider. Now Vhagar was growling, flapping its wings until raising its head blowing fire.

Visenya's eyes widen as she smiled.

"What's going on?" I asked, confused by this.

"Finish rolling out the string," Visenya ordered.

"What?" I replied.

"Reel the string now!" She said, forcing the tooth into my hand.

Overwhelmed, I started reeling in the string. Visenya stood there watching, arms crossed as her foot taps impatiently. Faster I went, soon the charm came closer until a glint popped out of the ocean. Setting the reel down, I walked over collecting the charm. At first glance, it was a ring, until analyzing it further to realize it was a crown while on the band was jeweled in rubies. Visenya came overseeing the jewel. She could help but grin.

"I don't understand," I said. "What does it mean?"

"I have many charms representing the fate of the great Targaryens. There is the chain of maesters, the seven-pointed star for Faith, a sword for knighthood, a book for scholar, a dragon for dragon rider, a ring as a spouse, and two types of crowns. A gold crown, and a red crown. No one in three hundred years has ever picked a red crown." She said.

"What does the red crown mean?" I asked.

"Conqueror," She answered, as cradle my cheek. "You shall go home and reclaim the Iron Throne. And through your journey, you shall be ready for the Great War that is to come."

"Great war? What war is greater than returning home?" I asked.

"A war of life and death," Visenya said. "Trials and tribulations, my dragoness. You shall go far south in the east, there you will meet the undying. They shall show you what is to come. Next, you shall sail north, in the land of harpies learning what it means to rule. Then, when the horses shall come, and krakens lend its ships, west you go. You will be tested, friends become enemies, enemies become friends, betrayed and heartbroken. A lioness shall challenge you, and a wolf shall support you. Listen to the wolf, for he has seen what is to come."

I was utterly confused when Visenya took the crown and placed it on my right ring finger.

"I will explain more when you are ready," Visenya promised. "Now it's time to wake."

She pecked my forehead causing me to wake.

**.o0o.**

When I opened my eyes no longer did I see Visenya? Instead, I saw an exhausted Ser Jorah, as he kept an arm around me while a sword in his hand. Looking around, I saw it was dawn. The breaking from the horizon. All around the Dothraki were asleep surrounding what remains of the pyre. My heart sunk remembering that my sister sacrificed herself to be with her family.

"Alysanne," Ser Jorah murmured.

I turned my attention to him.

"It's best we go," he advised.

"Where too," I mumbled.

"To Asshai, we can sail back to Pentos and discuss with Magister Illyrio," he suggested.

I took a deep breath, knowing that it is a smart decision in this barbaric country. Back to civilization, where leadership is not run by brutality. However, remembering what Visenya said. I need to go east, I must find the undying. They have something for me to see. Now I'm questioning my sanity, in how deep these dreams have become.

Ser Jorah helped up onto my feet. I wiped the tears away when I heard something in the distant. More sounds, almost like singing but they weren't human. They were coming from the ashes of the pyre. Drawn to them, I walked over until seeing a form curled in a ball. I ran over and stopped seeing Daenerys, alive on the ground. She was naked, covered in suit and tiredness in her eyes. I started to remove my vest, then stopped seeing something in her arms. Something that hasn't been seen in a hundred and fifty years since the Last Dragon.

One of black and red scurried around climbing up her back and onto her shoulders. Another to her ankle being green and yellow. The last one was cream and gold. It shook its head and looked at me with amber eyes. Dragons. The three dragon eggs that hatched into dragons. Not a second longer, the gold dragon jumped out of Daenerys's arm and onto me. I stumbled back, wincing from its short talons digging into my skin before it was on my shoulders.

Baffled and overwhelmed, I lend her hand to take. Daenerys stared at it, her eyes lingering on a ring of red jewels. She looked at it, then me, even I didn't realize the ring was there until she pointed at it. Not saying a word, she accepted my offered and pulled her up onto her feet.

Ser Jorah was astonished in what he saw bending the knee before us. All around the Dothraki followed pursuit bowing to Daenerys. She was the Khaleesi, ruler of the Dothraki. One day, I shall return to Westeros where the people are in great danger.

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**So, we have reached the end of Season One. What do you all think? Is Alysanne going insane with these dreams or is it magic?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 11: The Red Waste

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 11: The Red Waste.**

There haven't been any more dreams of Visenya since Khal Drogo's funeral. It's hard to explain, especially that Daenerys survived from being burned alive by fire. Not a mark on her. Nothing showing signs of being burned. Could what Visenya said, that Aegon the Fifth did a spell in an attempt to hatch dragon eggs backfires and prevented Daenerys and I from being burned? Still doesn't make sense with Viserys being by molten golden unless its only fire that doesn't harm us while heat from other elements can.

Another thing that is hard to understand is the three baby dragons. The eggs were petrified, hard as stone. Any dragons inside would be fossilized into mere bone. Yet there are three living dragons curling around us like kittens. Was this the reason why Vhagar was active in the dream realm? Sensing that dragons are hatching in the real world? One, in particular, has grown attached to me. The cream and golden one. When Daenerys tried to hold him, he would immediately jump out of her arms and back on me.

"He likes you," Daenerys chuckled.

"Ow," I winced when the golden dig its talons into my breast. "A bit too much."

Daenerys chuckled, as she sat on the makeshift bed with the black and green one. The black dragon had bonded with Daenerys. When I try to hold him, he would bite my hand and scurry to Daenerys. As for the green one, it was indecisive. Mainly goes for whoever has food, scratches his back, or soft enough to cuddle.

"What do you know about dragons?" Daenerys asked.

"Complex creatures," I answered. "Currently their mind is like dogs until bonding with a person who holds Valyrian blood. Our ancestors would place dragon eggs on Targaryen newborns and see if a dragon hatch. If they do, they are dragon riders, if they don't then they are not pure dragons. But the dragons choose the rider, not the other way around."

"What do they eat?" She asked.

"Meat," I answered. "Fresh meat, preferably from their kills. At least that is what the books say."

"And they can be big as Balerion?"

"I don't know. It's been over a hundred and fifty years since the world has last seen a dragon. The longer they live, the bigger they get. But without freedom, they remain small and sickly. The Dance of Dragons was the extinction of the Westerosi dragons. The doom of Valyria killed the south, and great men killed the rest."

My sister nodded as she petted the black dragon, "What should we name them?"

"Well, our ancestors named the dragons after the Valyrian gods, the wild dragons were named after their scales except for the wild dragons, The Cannibal, Sheepstealer, and Grey Wind," I said.

The black dragon nuzzles Daenerys neck, she petted it's back making it purr, "I think I'll call him Drogon."

"After your husband," I noted.

Daenerys nodded sadly, she changed the subject, "What about yours?"

I looked at the gold dragon and tried to think of a name. It looked at me, tilting its head. If the dragon were a dragoness, I would have name her Visenya. But the little one was a male. Remembering that Viserys is the male equivalent to Visenya. However, I don't want to be continuously reminded of my brother-husband. Saying his name brings sadness and the pain I endure in the marriage. A husband is supposed to love and cherish his wife, not abused them. The golden dragon licked my cheek. By instincts, I knew this little one will protect me when he is older. Something Viserys was incapable of doing.

"Viserion," I named him. "But he will be better."

"Agreed," Daenerys said.

Our eyes turned to the green dragon who was snoozing on a pillow. A bit of smoke coming out of his nostrils. We chuckled, for it was odd to comparing the dragon to a cat.

"What about this one?" I asked.

"I don't know, it's not like we have a third husband," she said. "What was our older brother like?"

"Rhaegar?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I don't have a sharp memory from when I was three," I started. "But he was there to watch Rhaenys, and I play. I remember him sitting on a chair playing his silver harp. He would laugh at how silly we were. Picking us up in the air and swung us around. Promised that when he becomes king…everything will be better." I didn't realize my eyes water, as I wiped the tears away. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I wish I knew him. All I heard from Viserys was that he was a fighter. A knight. Yet, when you talk about him, he held a softer side." She said as she took my hand. "We should name the green one after him. Rhaegon." She paused for it sound weird. "Rhaegal?"

The green dragon snapped it's head up as if hearing its name. We chuckled and called the green on Rhaegal. Our husbands and brothers were now with us in dragon form. We may have lost our loved ones, but now they are reincarnated in stronger forms.

"Alysanne, Khaleesi!" Ser Jorah called outside.

"Come," Daenerys said.

The exiled knight entered the tent seeing us with the dragons. His blue eyes were filled with awe. A man who was once a cynic has witnessed two women who can't be harm by fire and the birth of three dragons.

"What is it, Ser Jorah?" I asked.

He snapped out of his daze and looked at us. "Our riders returned, the North, west, and east are too dangerous to travels. The Lhazeen have heard of the raids and are preparing to kill us. The Dothraki, if they see us would enslave and or kill us. And the Bayasabhad is mountains or not suitable for the Khalasar."

"But I am a Khaleesi," Daenerys said.

"Which they will spare you to become a member of the Dosh Khaleen. But Alysanne and the rest of the women would be enslaved or forced to be wives." Ser Jorah said.

"You mention Asshai," I brought up.

"That is southeast, your grace," he said. "If it were the three of us, we can travel quickly around the trails. However, I don't think the Khalasar will make it."

"What do you mean?" Daenerys asked.

"We would have to travel through the Red Waste," he answered. "There is a lake halfway through it, but these lands are barren. Only the sand people know how to survive."

It was a hard decision. The east was mountains, risking death and the unknown climate. Meanwhile, the lands we have traveled through of Lhazar and the Dothraki sea is dangerous with people who wanted to kill us, because of Drogo's campaign or rivalry. South was our only options, but as Ser Jorah said, it's a barren desert. The choice belongs to Daenerys since this was her Khalasar.

"How far is the nearest watering hole?" Daenerys asked.

"Two days from here," Ser Jorah answered. "Afterwards, none for many miles unless you seek the one in the Red Waste."

Daenerys sighed, having no choice, she chosen south. Hoping we can run into the Sand people and lead us the way to the trails towards a port city. Nothing further to discuss, we got the Khalasar ready for travel. I helped pack her tent, though sadness filled her eyes from memories of Drogo. I hugged her, rubbing her back. She hugged me back, sobbing slightly. She loved Drogo, she honestly did.

"You are young," I murmured. "You will find love again."

"I don't think I can," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I spoke to the witch once more, and she told me that she cursed me," She explained. "She told me that I'm barren. No longer able to have children."

"Danny, she is not a reliable source," I told her. "Our bodies take time to recover after giving birth. You are only seventeen. You are young, and when the time comes and fate decides. I mean look at me, other than a miscarriage I haven't conceived a child."

My sister nodded, and soon we finished packing and put the dragons in their cages for the time being. It was a long two days when reaching the watering hole supplying as much water as possible before our long journey through the Red Waste. Some members of the Khalasar left, holding superstition about the desert. In the end, we continue walking in hopes to find somewhere safe.

**.o0o.**

And I thought the Dothraki Sea was hot or Lhazar. I was utterly mistaken, as we travel through the Red Waste. All around it was nothing but flat, barren lands of sand. The sun hovering over us like the fires from the Seven Hells. Far hotter than the hottest day in Volantis three summers. The air was dry, the ground was warm, the sun blazing, and fatigue grew heavy.

We've been traveling for weeks since the last watering hole and resources we could find. But as we travel far south, more khalasar members died. Jhiqui was one of the victims who perished from sunstroke. A loyal handmaiden. Being of the Dothraki faith, we cremated her body along with the others who died. It would be a week when reaching the lake that Ser Jorah mentioned. Many days, we travel by the lake receiving as much water as possible.

When we camp, Ser Jorah continued his lessons with the swords. It was a struggle, due to the environment, but Ser Jorah informed me that it's best to adapt instead of relying on one source. So, we trained, still with the defensive maneuvers until he thought I was ready to learn one offense attacks. Afterward, we would return to camp and recover.

By the time the lake came to an end, we gather as much water and continued onward south. We were losing hope when a comment soars through the sky. One with a red tail.

I walked beside Daenerys with Doreah beside us. I hardly talked to her, not because she was Viserys mistress, but we hardly connect in conversation. Still, the woman has done so much for Daenerys, especially how to be a good lover. I try not to imagine what transpire between the two.

Anyway, Drogon was on Daenerys's shoulder as she tried to offer him a piece of meat. The black dragon refused, being stubborn as ever. Out of the three dragons, Drogon was the most stubbornness of them all. Viserion can be picky, while Rhaegal seems to be the only one who is compliant. Then again, Rhaegal mainly sleeps. Eats and sleep.

"What did your brother say about them, Khaleesi?" Doreah asked.

"He said they ate meat," Daenerys answered.

"He didn't tell you what kind of meat?" Doreah continued.

Daenerys shook her head, "My brother didn't know anything about dragons."

"He didn't know anything about anything," I muttered.

Daenerys stopped the carriage that held the cages and put Drogon inside. Viserion gave a hiss thinking he had to go in. I rubbed his neck, and continue walking. If the legends are true about dragons growing faster when free, then it's best Viserion was out. Only at night, when I go to sleep does he go in the cage. I took a bit of raw meat trying to offer it to Viserion. The gold dragon sniffed it, and wrinkle its nose in disgust. Sometimes the dragons would munch on a bit of cook meat, but in the end, it wasn't enough. One-time Daenerys tried to nurse them since her body was dealing with post pregnancy. It worked for several days, but the predators needed meat. If there were some mice maybe. We haven't seen any living thing roaming about.

A whining of a horse could be heard. Looking up, we saw the white horse collapsed onto the ground. Ser Jorah and Aggo, were there by the horse checking its condition. Daenerys rushed over, as did I. Her eyes watered, as she petted the horse. Another victim to sunstroke.

"She was Drogo's first gift to me," Daenerys mumbled.

"I remember," I said.

"I promised to protect them. Promised them their enemies would die screaming. How do I make starvation scream?" She asked us.

"A trick I never learned, I'm afraid," Ser Jorah confessed.

"Does it ever end?" she asked.

"This is further east than I've ever been. But, yes, Khaleesi, everything ends, even the Red Waste," Ser Jorah answered.

"And you're sure there are no other way?" She asked.

"If we go Southwest to the land of the Lhazareen the Lamb Men will kill us and take your dragons. If we go Northwest to the Dothraki Sea, the first Khalasar we meet will kill us and take your dragons." He answered.

"No one will take our dragons," She promised.

"They are too weak to fight, as are your people," I whispered, gesturing to the small khalasar. "You must be their strength."

Daenerys looked at me, "As you are mine."

Afterward, she called in her Khas, "_Rakharo, Aggo, Kovarro. Take our remaining horses. You will ride east, you southeast, and you northeast_."

"_What do we seek, Khaleesi?"_ Rakharo asked.

"_Cities, living or dead. Caravans and people. River or lakes or the great salt sea,"_ Daenerys answered. "_Find how far the Red Waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side."_

The men nodded as they got the horses ready. In the meantime, the camp was being set up to form tents. Not as grand as before, but enough to provide shade to reduce the heat. Daenerys went over to Rakharo giving her blessing before he went east. In the meantime, the rest of the Khalasar waited.

It was too hot to exhort energy to train, so I sat on a boulder and used a dagger to practice on my grip. Viserion, curled around my neck nuzzling it. Licking off the sweat, I shudder from the texture of his tongue then chuckle. Some of the khalasar children came over, awing at the dragon. They asked if they could pet him, but I told them not too. Not wanting to risk them getting bitten or severely scratched. A while later, they returned to their parents.

"You have your way with children," Ser Jorah complimented as he came over with a canteen.

"I guess so," I sighed. "I always wanted children of my own."

"A woman of your age, I'm surprised you don't have one," he said.

I took a deep breath, "I was once pregnant three years ago. Unfortunately, I miscarried."

"I'm sorry to hear that, I did not know," he apologized.

"It's probably be for the best," I said. "The child wouldn't have survived all this traveling in these conditions. Along with Viserys temper."

Ser Jorah nodded as he handed me his canteen. I refused at first, but he insisted. Parched already, I accepted and took a small sip from the canteen, not wanting to take much of his ration. I made a small cap full, in which Viserion licked it up before returning it to Ser Jorah.

"Was it a mistake going south?" I asked him.

"It was the only choice we had," he answered. "Even if we made it through Lhazar and entered the country of Yunkai or Meereen, we would still be dealing with slavers. They may pardon you, Daenerys, and I, but the rest of the Khalasar will be taken. Slaver's Bay they call the area."

"Have you've been there?"

"Not in a very long time. One I do not wish to go there again."

I nodded, then looked at my charm Visenya gave me. Remembering the riddle in what I must do: "_Trials and tribulations, my dragoness. You shall go far south in the east, there you will meet the undying. They shall show you what is to come. Next, you shall sail north, in the land of harpies learning what it means to rule. Then, when the horses shall come, and krakens lend its ships, west you go. You will be tested, friends become enemies, enemies become friends, betrayed and heartbroken. A lioness shall challenge you, and a white wolf shall support you. Listen to the wolf, for he has seen what is to come."_

The first thing I must do is meet the undying. They are supposed to show me what is to come. But what is the undying? Is it some cult or organization? A race of people?

"Ser Jorah, have you heard of the undying?" I asked.

"I have heard of the word, but I do not understand what you are asking," He answered.

"Is there someplace, religion, a culture called the undying?" I asked.

"I do not know, your grace," he answered. "I've never been this far east and south. Why do you ask?"

I did not answer. I was afraid, he would think I have gone mad. Even I do not know if I'm going crazy, with these dreams and hearing Visenya's voice. But when this charm appeared on my hand, it was my clarification I wasn't going insane. It's like the far east we go, more magic appears. Spirits, witches, and dragons…what's next?

"The witch mentioned it," I lied. "I'm just curious is all."

Ser Jorah nodded, as he looked up ahead. I looked up staring at the comet that soars overhead. There is a meaning behind every comet. The books once mention that a comet can be a sign of good fortune, an omen, or the return of magic. All depends on the color, and red can be questionable.

**.o0o.**

Days go by as the heat worsen. Everyone took shelter in the tents or by the rocky ravine praying the khas return with news. I sat next to Daenerys, who close to falling unconscious head nearly resting on my shoulder. Viserion resting on my lap nuzzling against my stomach.

Ser Jorah sat across from us, looking ahead to keeping watch. He pulled out his canteen and took a small sip of water. He appeared weather-worn, the dehydration making him look older than he already was. It was strange how loyal he is to us. Most of our lives, men take advantage of my family for favors since being in exile. The true loyal knight being Ser Willem. So, seeing another loyal knight, traveling with us, protecting Daenerys and I was strange. He killed a bloodrider, he stopped a poisoning attempt, broke traditions of a swordsman to train me, and mentor us. There were many chances he had in abandoning us for his own survival. And yet he stayed by our side.

The exiled knight head shot up and look at the horizon. Something was approaching, as the sounds of hooves were noted. "Khaleesi, your grace."

Daenerys is woken up seeing a horse arriving. Something was wrong, it was Rakharo's horse, as the saddle and blankets were the same. But the dark horse was covered in red paint and missing its rider. Ser Jorah stood up and walked over to expect it. The knight noticed a satchel on the side. He cautiously opened it, to what he saw made him frown, partially pulling out something then put it back, then took what appears to be braided hair.

Daenerys and I stood up walking over. I was the first to ask, "What is it?"

"You don't need to see this," Ser Jorah advised.

"He's blood of my blood," Daenerys said, walking over and saw the content in the bag. Our eyes widen in seeing it was Rakharo head. "Who did this?

"Khal Pono, perhaps. Khal Jhaqo," Ser Jorah guessed. "They don't like the idea of a woman leading a Khalasar."

"They will like it far less when I am done with them," Daenerys threatened.

Irri walked over. Oh no, she and Rakharo had a Dothraki courtship. It wasn't expressive as it would be in Westeros or in the Free Cities, but you can see the small gestures of care. The handmaiden saw the blood and gasped before sobbing. She was fallen to her knees, weeping for her love.

"_They killed his soul!"_ Irri wailed.

Daenerys comforted her handmaiden, cradling her cheek, "_Shh. They cannot kill his soul."_

"_They did_!" Irri wept. "_They butcher him like an animal. They did not burn his body. He can never join his ancestors in the night lands._"

My sister knelt, embracing her handmaiden, "_Shh. We will build him a funeral pyre_." She glances at Ser Jorah and I, before cradling Irri looking into her eyes. "_And I promise you, Rakharo will ride with his ancestors tonight."_

Irri sobbed embracing her Khaleesi.

Later that night we built a funeral pyre for Rakharo following Dothraki tradition. Providing more offerings, and supplies to appease the Great Stallion to accept the fallen ko. Daenerys called him her ko in her speech as the elders did the prayer. Irri was given a torch, as she said farewell to her lover. Afterward, the night was silent, and the Red Waste has claimed another soul.

I became more concern as time keeps passing. The longer we wait, the faster our provision are fading. Water decreasing in large quantities, not because of consumption, but the heat evaporating it. Either we start moving, or we will die here. Ser Jorah agreed; however, we could not abandon the Khalasar and Kovarro, and Aggo haven't returned.

The following day Aggo returned, sadly all he found were barren mountains. There was no source of food, water, or civilizations. Daenerys worried, leaving Kovarro our only hope of survival.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

The Mother of Dragons started to worry. Her Ko, her blood of her blood, Rakharo was dead, brutality murdered by a Khal who doesn't accept her running a khalasar. Daenerys tried hard to comfort her handmaiden Irri, knowing the woman loved Rakharo. When Aggo returned, she had hoped he found something, but once more all he saw was more lands and no life. She prays to the gods that Kovarro will find something. At least water.

A lot of sacrifices had to be made the last several days. When Silver her horse died, the Khalasar used the mare's meat to eat. Food that lasted a few days, but still wasn't enough. She rations more of the water, only the children getting a fair amount. Still starvation was growing.

She walked around finding Alysanne surrounded by children as she tried to tell them a story in Dothraki. The children were chuckling, since the dragoness Dothraki was terrible. Not because she got the words or pronunciation wrong, but her accent. The story was about Aegon the Conqueror, and his conquest over the Seven Kingdoms. Viserion was on her shoulder, purring making noises that the children were more interested in him than the story.

Another thing Daenerys noticed was Ser Jorah watching them from the side. The Khaleesi noticed the exiled knight being in her sister's company. At first, she thought Ser Jorah was a good friend, as he has been with her. But lately, since Vaes Dothrak, she noticed how awfully close he has become. The way he looked at Alysanne the same when Drogo looked at her, yet doesn't pursue it. After Viserys, Daenerys wanted her sister to be happy, to be loved or some sort of affection. Seeing Jorah, she wouldn't mind being the one. Daenerys sees him as a father figure, he could be a perfect match for Alysanne. Once they get out of this desert, she got a lot of work cut out.

A horse whining caught her attention as she turned around seeing a rider. Approaching the small camp was none other than Kovarro. On his return, she noticed he was riding a different horse since this was dark fur and the one, he left many days ago was grey, along with many supplies strapped to it.

"_This is not your horse,"_ She mumbled.

Kovarro got off the horse and brought a canteen made of the finest leather over handing it to her. It was heavy, full of liquid. Water. Her eyes widen looking at her bloodrider.

"_It was given to me by the Thirteen,"_ Kovarro explained happily. "_The Elders of Qarth."_

"_Qarth?"_ Daenerys asked, never heard of this country or city. Esso was divided into nations, and each nation holds its capital with the same name. She knows of Westeros nine kingdoms and the Free Cities on the western side of Essos, and geography of islands, but the far east was still unknown.

"_Three days to the east, on the sea_," Kovarro said.

"_Will they let us in?"_ she asked.

"_They said they would be honor to receive the Mother of Dragons and the Dragoness of the West_," Kovarro answered.

Daenerys turned to Ser Jorah and Alysanne who stood behind her.

"What do you know of this place?" Daenerys asked them

Ser Jorah crossed his arms thinking, "Only that the desert around their walls is called the Garden of Bones. Every time the Qartheen shut their gates on a traveler, the garden grows."

"What kind of city are they?" Alysanne asked.

"A trade city of riches," Ser Jorah answered.

"There may be a chance someone may know Magister Illyrio," Alysanne suggested. "Or someone who seeks a favor from House Targaryen. The choice is yours, Daenerys, this is your Khalasar."

Daenerys nodded as she thought about it. They have enough provisions for three days, and if being a Targaryen holds the same favor as it has in the West then they are saved. But a part of her worries, in what Ser Jorah mentioned that if they turn them down, they will be part of the garden of bones. Having no other place to go, they packed up and went for the city of Qarth.

* * *

**It's shocking that Season two gives the Essos Storyline in the desert three episodes of Daenerys and Jorah waiting. Sorry if this chapter seems less interesting. It will get better soon.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**!


	12. Chapter 12: The City of Qarth

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 12: The City of Qarth**

After three long days, we arrived in the city of Qarth. Ser Jorah was not joking about the valley that was surrounded by bones. The closer we got to the wall, the few the skulls appeared. Up ahead, was the wall that surrounded the city, about fifty feet tall. Out of precaution, we put the dragons in their cage. Viserion and Drogon hissed at us, but we knew it was for the best. We are in unknown territory, a merchant city, and where there are merchants, there are thieves.

"Control your emotions," I told Daenerys.

"What do you mean?" Daenerys asked, slightly impulsive.

Ever since Daenerys left Vaes Dothrak with more confidence after Viserys death, except her decisions have become impulsive. At first, I assumed it was the mood-swings and hormones of being pregnant. But lately, these spontaneous behavior costs Drogo's life and the original Khalasar against us. Young that she maybe, she is now a Khaleesi, and people are relying on her.

"You can be impulsive," I answered. "They have the upper hand, and we don't. We must please them to open the gate."

"Can you do the talking?" Daenerys asked.

"This is not my Khalasar," I reminded. "But I can see what I can."

Daenerys nodded, as we drew closer to the wall. By the time we reach the gate, we were greeted by guards holding spears and shield. Behind them were men dressed in elegant silks and gold. We kept our distance, being considerate to the Capitals customs. Daenerys was not pleased.

"I thought we were welcome," Daenerys said.

"If you heard a Dothraki horde was approaching your city, you might do the same, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah replied.

Daenerys looked at her Khalasar which was more in the size of a caravan, "Horde?"

One man out of the group came forward wearing an orange robe with golden designs, and jeweled beetles on his shoulder. He appeared middle age, balding with tan skin. He must be the leader of the Thirteen.

"My name is Alysanne—" I started.

"Alysanne of the House Targaryen," the representative interrupted. "And your sister, Daenerys Stormborn."

"You know of us, my lord?" I asked.

"Only by reputation, your grace," he answered. "And I'm no lord, merely a humble merchant. They call you two the Dragon Sisters. Like you, your grace, are the Dragoness of the West and the Khaleesi, the Mother of Dragons."

"And may I ask of your name, sir?" I asked.

"Oh, my name is quite long and quite impossible for foreigners to pronounce," he passive-aggressively answered. "I am simply a trader of spices. But we are the Thirteen, charged with the governance and protection of Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or will be."

"The beauty of Qarth is legendary," I said, making sure I pronounced the city correctly.

"I appreciate the compliment," he said. "Might we see the dragons?"

I glanced over my shoulder to look at the cages. I debated, maybe presenting Viserion would be enough to allow us access. It was a risk, one I'm willing to take until Daenerys stepped forward into the conversation.

"My…friend," Daenerys said. "We have no food, no water. Once I see my people fed, we are honored—"

"Forgive me, Mother of Dragons, but no man alive has seen a living dragon." He said. "Some of my more skeptical friends refused to believe your children even exist. All we ask is the chance to see for ourselves."

Daenerys scowled, "I am not a liar."

"Oh, I don't think you are." He replied sarcastically. "But as I've never met you before, my opinion on the matter is of limited value."

"Where I come from, guests are treated with respect, not insulted at the gates," Daenerys forced out, trying to be kind, yet the annoyance can be detected.

"Danny, enough," I hissed.

"Then perhaps you should return to where you come from," He said calmly. "We wish you well."

Daenerys marched over, I tried to stop her, but it was the guards to stopped her pointing their spears.

"What are you doing?" She demanded. "You promised to receive us?"

The representative turned around, "We have received you. Here we are, and here you are."

"If you do not let us in, all of us will die." She said.

"Which we shall deeply regret." He said. "But Qarth did not become the greatest city that ever was or will be by letting Dothraki savages through its gates."

He gave a bow and joined the rest of the thirteen.

"Khaleesi, please be careful," Ser Jorah warned.

Daenerys growled as she bellowed, "Thirteen!"

This caused the men to stop and face us.

"When my dragons are grown, we will take back what was stolen from us and destroy those who wronged us. We will lay waste to armies and burn cities to the ground. Turn us away, and we will burn you first."

_Daenerys!_ I mentally yelled.

The representative came back to us, pointing his finger, "Ah. You are a true Targaryen. Only, as you said a moment ago, if we don't let you into the city, you will all die. And so…"

"If I present you my dragon, will you allow us access," I interrupted. "Does the offer still stand?"

The baffled the man while Daenerys grabbed my arm tightly. The men huddle, discussing it until their representative came forward. "Yes."

I yanked my arm from Daenerys and walked over to the cages opening Viserion crate. The dragon stretched and immediately climbed on me, onto my shoulders. I return presenting Viserion to the Thirteen. All were astonished, seeing the dragon for the first time in centuries. Daenerys scowled at me while Ser Jorah remained quiet. I do not care; my sister's temper almost risks the lives of the Khalasar. Let alone, that is not how I want to present House Targaryen. We are not going to be tyrants. Our ancestors relied on threats, and it resulted in our near extinction.

The representative came over faced to face as he reached out to touch the dragon. However, Viserion growled, almost biting him in warning that caused the man to stumble back.

"That animal is a risk to our city," the representative snapped in fear.

"You promised- "

"Retreating in fear from a woman is unbecoming of the greatest city that ever was or will be. When you made a promise in which she obliged. We saw the dragon, now let them in," another man joined the conversation. He was tall and muscular, having dark skin, thinning hair, and a beard.

"The discussion is over, Xaro Xhoan Daxos," the representative said. "The Thirteen have spoken."

"I am one of the Thirteen, and I am still speaking," the dark man said.

"The girl threatens to burn our city to the ground, and this dragon almost bit my finger off, and you would invite her in for a cup of wine?" The leader asked.

"They are the Dragon Sisters," Xaro Xhoan Daxos reminded. "Do you expect them to watch their people starve without breathing fire? I believe we can allow a few Dothraki through our gates without dooming our city. After all, here I am, a savage from the Summer Isles and Qarth still stands."

"Our decision is final," the leader said.

"Very well," Xaro Xhoan Daxos replied, stepping forward. "I invoke _Sumai_." He pulled out a dagger, "I will vouch for them, the people, and their dragons in accordance with the law." He then cut his hand directly in the representative's face and showed the injury to the others.

"Be it on your head," the representative warned bitterly, joining the others.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos turned to me with a smile, waving his bloody hand to the gates that open, "Welcome to Qarth, my ladies."

The gates open revealing the Great City of Qarth.

I turned to Daenerys shocked in what happened, but she could tell I was not pleased with her manners. I warned her before to control her emotions, for we were in unknown territory near the desert. The Khalasar needed food, water, and shelter. Any more exposure to the sun and they will die of sunstroke in a few days. Ser Jorah stood there impressed, but also cautious. If it weren't for Xaro Xhoan Daxos performing _Sumai_ then our fate was done.

Nothing else to say, I started walking with Viserion on my shoulder.

**.o0o.**

Xaro Xhoan Daxos was considerate in being our host. He took us to his palace which was grander than Magister Illyrio's manse in Pentos. Practically having acres of land, filled with buildings and gardens. He gave us an entire wing, and told his staff to provide any accommodations for the Khalasar. Giving us a tour, he presented the apartment where Daenerys and I would be staying, on each side was a bedchamber and in the center was a joining solar lounge. The room had a three-sided wall, as the main wall was an open window that viewed the gardens. In the gardens, it smelled of lavender and mint, where a marble bathing pooled stocked with goldfish.

"I hope the apartment is to your liking, your grace," Xaro said.

"It's more than enough," I said. "Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said.

"I apologize for my sister's behavior at the gates," I started.

He chuckled softly, "Fire is in her heart. All is forgiven. The Spice King is one who should be asking for forgiveness. You gave what was requested, and he turned you down for attempting to pet your dragon without consent."

I nodded, seeing he understand that. Viserion is very protective of me. Other than Daenerys, he doesn't allow anyone to touch him. Ser Jorah received a nip when he tried to pet Viserion. At least the golden dragon gave a warning, and not an actual bite.

"Still, I don't know how to repay you," I said.

"You can repay me by attending a party I'll be hosting in a few days. Many of my friends and colleagues would be interested in meeting Alysanne Targaryen, the rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men." He requested. "Although, the dragons will have to remain here as a precaution."

"I understand," I assured.

"Rest, your grace. I shall have my staff attend to your sister's Khalasar and healers to those in need."

He took my hand and gave peck on the knuckle. With a bow and smile, he left my bedchambers to attend his daily living. I stood there baffled, not expecting such hospitality. Majority of my life on the west side of Essos, Viserys received the praise and attention. Now Xaro Xhoan Daxos is giving me the attention. Also, a rare gesture that Viserys was unable to provide. I felt my cheeks warm, until hearing a slight crackle. I glanced at Viserion who was giving his version of a smirk.

"Don't get any ideas," I told him, grabbing Viserion and placed him on the table.

Not long after, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me," Daenerys answered.

"Enter," I said.

Daenerys came in along with two Dothraki men bringing my things in. Not long after, the men left, and Daenerys remained. I sat on the bed with my arms crossed still disappointed in her behavior. She sensed it, looking down at her feet.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"What did I tell you when approaching the gate?" I asked.

"To control my emotions," she answered.

"And did you?"

"They were going to let us die."

"I had everything under control, and you barge into the conversation demanding their hospitality. Viserys never demand entrance, it was given. Also, you threaten them. You never threaten a leader unless it means of war." I scolded. "We have seventy-five people and three baby dragons against a city-state. While you were thinking about your pride, I was thinking about your people. What was the downfall to our House?"

Daenerys did not answer.

"Our House is in crisis because of pride and madness. Our Father made many enemies because of his temper," I said.

"You don't know that, you hardly seen him. You were three," she challenged.

I stood up and grabbed her by the shoulder, "On the days of execution, I could hear the screams of men being burned alive by wildfire from my chambers. Father's paranoia put houses in near extinction. There is a spark, and there is the fuel that leads to a rebellion. Do you know what started the Usurpers rebellion?"

Daenerys shook her head.

"Rhaegar took Robert Baratheon's betrothed, her name was Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. The Warden of the North, Lord Rickard Stark was offended by this act, so he and his eldest son went South to King's Landing asking Father to return his daughter. A simple request, one any wise person would have done. Instead, our Father arrested them and executed them on the spot, burning them alive with wildfire. That wasn't enough though, so Father sent a raven to the Vale and ordered Lord Jon Arryn to kill his two wards: Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon." I told her.

Daenerys's eyes widen, "How do you know this?"

"When we were in Tyrosh, I met a Dornish merchant who was an associate to our host," I said. "I wanted the truth, and he told me. We're not a perfect family, Daenerys. If we are going to return home to Westeros, we can't present ourselves with rage. Why do you think I've been testing you since leaving Vaes Dothrak?"

Daenerys remained quiet.

"You are my heir," I told her. "If anything were to happen me and you decide to go west, you can't present yourself in Fire and Blood. Aegon knew that it wise to start out political before going into battle."

"How do you know all this?" She asked.

"Because I read," I answered. "Start reading the books Ser Jorah gave you. Because where we are going, home will not have open arms. We might have House Martell on our side, but eighteen years might've change that."

I took a deep breath feeling exhausted, hugging her, "I'm sorry for sounding harsh. But it's time to kill the girl and become a woman."

Daenerys wrapped her arms around me and nodded, "I'm sorry."

I kissed the top of her head, "Go rest now. Take advantage of the baths and beds."

She nodded and left my chambers to rest.

I laid on the bed, covering my face and groaned. A lot of teachings for Daenerys so she can understand our enemy's mindset. All the Magisters and host have lied to Viserys saying the people are waiting for our return, with swords and banners at the ready. Saying those ornate words to receive my brother-husbands favor. Maybe during Aegon the Fifth it could be possible, that we were loved by the people. But generations after that, not so much. Aerys the Second might had started off as a fair king, but the mental disease of madness took over turning him into a tyrant. No doubt the Great Houses will compare me and hold me against my father's actions.

However, if what Visenya says is true, something far greater than the crown is coming…we need to be prepared. The dragons will grow, a blessing from the Seven. But dragons will not be enough. We need armies, ships, and weapons. One way to get all this is through marrying the richest man in Essos. Unfortunately, neither Daenerys nor I are in the condition for marriage. I need to focus on what Visenya said in finding the Undying. They hold the answers in what I seek.

**.o0o.**

The next few days have been nothing but sleep and recovery. Ten healers arrived by sunset and treated the Dothraki, Daenerys, Ser Jorah, and I from sunstroke and other potential ailments from the Red Waste. Once they were done, I took a guilty pleasure of a long-needed bath. Not having a real bath since Pentos. When I thought I had to do it myself, two handmaidens entered stating Master Xaro assigned them to me. I was hesitant when they said _Master_ when the women chuckle stating they were paid. Apparently, Xaro Xhoan Daxos hires the less fortunate, providing jobs, fair wages, and lodgings. I was impressed by this man's generosity.

Anyway, the women helped me with my bath. It was a challenged, not the scrubbing of my skin but my hair. The Battle of the Knots. The handmaidens did as they could in being gentle. Applying oils to loosen the knots, remove the dirt and repair damages. Of course, seeing the damage end, they took a pair of scissors and gave a trim to look healthy. Once they were done, they helped me in my robes and left.

Daenerys was pleased enjoying the treatment. Doreah was as well, although Irri felt uncomfortable. Being treated, when all her life she has been a handmaiden. Now she was a guest. Still, she refused the clothes that have been provided and felt some solitude in mending our travel clothes and boots. I try to tell her there is no need, but she insisted saying she needed the distraction. Irri was still grieving for Rakharo.

In Daenerys room, we settle in after having an excellent breakfast. Today Xaro Xhaon Daxos was hosting an event in his palace. We were all invited and were preparing for the festivities. Once more, our host surprised us with more gifts. As the servants deliver two dresses, one blue and the other purple, each containing intricate gold belts and shoulder links.

Daenerys and Doreah didn't seem interested. They were on the windowsill giving Drogo his meal. I told her during our travels when the dragons were born some Valyrian commands dragon riders used. Placing a cube of beef, Drogon made clicking noises examining it.

"_Dracarys_," Daenerys murmured.

Drogon squeak, tilting its head comprehending the words.

"_Dracarys_," Daenerys repeated with a smile.

Drogon took a deep breath, hissing until breathing fire on the meat. It was small, almost like a candle flame yet strong enough to sear the flesh. We smiled, seeing Valyrian magic hasn't died out. That is what Mother called it, Valyrian magic between the dragons and the dragon riders. Spells in old Valyrian language. Drogon finished cooking his food and ate it all.

"He'll be able to feed himself," I said.

Doreah reached out to pet Drogon, but Daenerys warned her, "Let him sleep, Doreah."

"Yes, Khaleesi," Doreah replied, still smiling as she helped Drogon in his cage. The dragon complied, hopping on her hand.

"He loves you," Daenerys noted.

Rhaegal was already asleep, soaking in the son. Meanwhile, Viserion continues to cling to my shoulder. I noticed Irri getting a bit jealous over the attention her Khaleesi was giving to Doreah. Drogon may like Doreah, Rhaegal still seek her attention, since Irri knows where to rub his belly. It was clear Rhaegal was more of a feline than a dragon. The Dothraki handmaiden came over to Daenerys presenting the mended clothes.

"_I rewove this part of the top,"_ Irri informed, as Daenerys examined it along with the boot. "_And I fixed the heel on this one."_

"Thank you, my friend," Daenerys said proudly that made Irri smile.

"Did you see the dress Xaro had made for you?" Doreah asked, lifting the blue dress. "They say he's the wealthiest man in Qarth."

"It is known," Irri agreed.

"And if Qarth is the wealthiest city in Essos –"

"The last time a rich man gave me a dress, he was selling me to Khal Drogo," Daenerys stated, touching the fabric.

"_May he ride forever in the night lands_," Irri prayed.

We all nodded since Khal Drogo had done so much for us when women in the Dothraki culture were second class citizens. No man laid a hand on us. Forced themselves on us while he was still alive.

"Xaro is our host, but we know nothing about him," I said, then looked at Doreah. "Men like to talk about other men when they're happy."

Doreah chuckled and nodded getting the hint. Xaro Xhoan Daxos couldn't just be an honorable man. I have a feeling there is more than he is lets on. I believe Doreah in her knowledge in the art of conversation can retrieve some information.

"You would look like a real queen and princess in Xaros's—"

"She's not a princess. She's a Khaleesi," Irri snapped. All eyes were on her surprised since she was the quiet one in the group. She sighed, "You should wear it, Khaleesi. You are their guest. It would be rude not to."

Afterward, she left the room. Excusing myself, I went after her to see what was wrong. I found Irri by the steps softly crying. Sitting down next to her, I placed my hand on her shoulder.

"The change in environment is overwhelming," I murmured.

"It is not home," Irri said. "Not the grass sea or Vaes Dothrak."

"Do you wish to return to Vaes Dothrak?" I asked.

"No, I must serve my Khaleesi," she answered. "Doreah…she is not us."

"Doreah comes from an island called Lys," I explained. "They are very open and the customs of pleasing others."

"She's changing Khaleesi," she said. "Make her not Dothraki."

I see it now. Irri was trying to hold onto the past. All that she has known is dead or dying. I had to explain to her that where we are going, will not be the same as the Dothraki culture. Reminding her of Pentos, but the Seven Kingdoms will be different. For someone who has lived in a culture that doesn't adapt to change very well is understandable. Changes were omens. Luckily, Irri understood, and I told her to relax and breathe.

"Is there anything I could mend?" She offered.

"You don't have too," I assure.

"Please…I need a distraction." She insisted.

I nodded, saying she can take a look at my clothes and boots. Irri smiled appreciating it. Viserion squeak, leaning over and licked Irri's tears. That caused her to chuckle, and carefully rubbed his neck which he allowed. Again, rare for Viserion to allow others near him.

.**o0o**.

The party started in midafternoon, as many Qartheens arrived at the event. Daenerys and I stood together, dressed in the attire Xaro gave us. I wore the purple silk dress, while my hair was put up in a bun, ending with a braid. The Targaryen pinned secured in my hair, my mother's necklace, and the conquest ring. Daenerys, she wore the blue gown, having her hair let down. We were impressed by the gardens, and the guest speaking to us in the common tongue. Although one merchant tried to talk in Dothraki…which he unintendedly insulted.

Our goals were clear to meet as many people to earn their favors. If we can find the right merchant with a ship, we can sail back to Pentos where we can rejoin Magister Illyrio. All afternoon has been poised and smiles. Answering questions about our heritage. Although, when they bring up the incest…we forced a massive smile saying "It's to keep the Valyrian bloodline alive" At least Doreah was succeeding in conversation, wearing a new handmaiden gown talking with other merchants.

We were having a conversation with the Copper King and his wife who was recommending several locations in Qarth to visit. Their names were a tongue twister, but the woman stated her Western name she goes by is Kristina.

"And you must visit the night market," Kristina recommended. "The Qartheen night market is like no night market you've ever seen."

"It sounds wonderful," Daenerys said, with a smile.

"The Meereens think they have a night market. I will take you, princesses, there myself," Kristina offered.

Suddenly we could hear Dothraki language speaking loudly. Looking over Kristina's shoulder, there Ser Jorah had an amusing debate with Kovarro and Malakko over an oriental statue of a peacock. Worse was, Kovarro was tapping it with his dagger. This was not good since I promised Xaro no harm to his property. And the Dothraki can get carried away that leads to an unnecessary duel and a missing limb.

"Please excuse us for a moment," I politely said, as Daenerys and I rushed over to see what is the matter.

"What are they doing?" Daenerys asked.

"Malakko says the statue is too heavy to carry," Ser Jorah answered. "Kovarro says that Malakko is an idiot. They can pry out the gems, the rest is pure gold. Very soft. He can chop off as much as we can carry."

"_Or melt it. Very simple_," Kovarro said.

"_We are his guest_," Daenerys reminded. "_You can't pry it or chop it or melt it."_

"_Of course not, Khaleesi. We will wait until we leave,"_ Kovarro assured.

"_Not even when we leave,"_ Daenerys scolded.

I looked at Ser Jorah who was amused by this. I couldn't help it either trying not to chuckle or smile, seeing Daenerys scold her men as if talking to children. In the discussion, Ser Jorah glanced at my attire. It was slightly out of my usual attire, trying to be modest.

"_Why not?"_ Kovarro asked.

"_Our host saved us from the Red Waste, and you want to steal from him?"_ Daenerys reminded. "_I will hear no more." _

Kovarro gave an exaggerated sighed, before he and Malakko headed off. However, it didn't stop the young Ko from grabbing a golden cup from a servant and poured the wine out and left with it. Unable to resist, I chuckled.

"My brother used to say the only thing the Dothraki know how to do was steal things better men have built," Daenerys chuckled, as the three of us started walking.

"It's not the only thing," Ser Jorah said. "They're quite good at killing the better men."

"That is not the kind of leader I want to be," I told him.

"Dragon sisters," someone called out. We turned around seeing a pale bald man with blue lips approach us. "On behalf of the warlocks of Qarth, I welcome you." He pulled out a hand to Daenerys. "A Demonstration?"

My sister obliged accepting his hand, in which he took a green stone and placed it on her palm, "Take this gem. Look at it. Into its depths." Daenerys did so. "So many facets. Look closely enough, and you can see yourself in them."

He then turned for behind the peacock was another warlock who looked precisely like him. Many gasped in surprise. "Often more than once."

"Should you ladies grow tired of Xaros's baubles and trinkets, it would be an honor to host you at the House of the Undying. You're always welcome," the warlock offered.

_The House of the Undying_, I thought. Is that where Visenya wanted me to go. Can these Warlocks be the people who have what I need to know? The warlock stared at me as if reading my mind and nodded.

"Dragoness of the West, Mother of Dragons," the warlock said, with a bow and left.

He and his…twin?

The guest applauds in the demonstration.

"My apologies," Xaro said, as he came over. "Pyat Pree is one of the Thirteen. It was customary for me to extend him an invitation. Customs die slow deaths in Qarth."

"What is the House of the Undying?" I asked.

"It is where the warlocks go to squint at dusty books and drink shade of the evening. It turns their lips blue and their minds soft – so soft, they actually believe their parlor tricks are magic." Xaro answered, wrapping an arm around me.

We chuckled as he escorted us to meet his friends.

**.o0o.**

_Ser Jorah's POV_

The exiled knight watched Xaro Xhoan Daxos wrapped his arm around Alysanne escorting the Dragon Sisters away. He scowled slightly, having a bad feeling. As he heard you shouldn't trust a Qartheen. They only care about themselves and their profit. Let alone where the man's hand was on his queen's waist.

Jorah sighed shaking his head, needing to stop thinking about Alysanne like that. She was a young widow. And though he was pardoned, and received his divorce…he can't stop looking at her the same. He doubted Alysanne would hold an interest in him, he was almost twice her age, a knight with small lands and no fortune.

All he could do was protect Alysanne and Daenerys. Mentor them, so they don't become like their father. So far, Alysanne shows no sign of madness. Daenerys on the other hand, he questions if it were hormones from her pregnancy or these impulsive were something different entirely. The same impulsive behavior as the Mad King. Only time can tell.

He stood where he was watching the two Targaryens talk with the guest. Observing every detail to ensure there is no assassination attempt. The day after arriving in Qarth he sent a letter to Magister Illyrio to know of their whereabouts. Hopefully, Illyrio will send some money and aid to sail them back to Pentos. Until then, they are stuck here in Qarth, could take months before any news arrives. And with Lord Varys little birds everywhere and possible assassins seeking Lordship…it's dangerous.

"You watch over them," a woman's voice noted.

Ser Jorah turned his head seeing a woman wearing an intricate mask of an elongated hexagon. The pattern continues to her dress of different shades of red and blue. A pattern he sees from the people of Asshai.

"Do I know you?" Ser Jorah asked.

"I know you," She answered. "Jorah Mormont of Bear Island."

He tensed, "Who are you?"

"I'm no one," she answered, then looked at the girls. "But they are the Dragon Sisters. They need true protectors now more than ever. They shall come day and night to see the wonder born into the world again. And when they see, they shall lust, for dragons are fire made flesh. And fire is power."

The mysterious woman walked away.

Jorah was confused, wondering who that woman was. She did not seem like Vary's little birds since she was an adult woman and not a child or adolescent. Still cautious, he turned around seeing Alysanne was gone while Daenerys remained in conversation with the guest. His heart rate increased, wondering where the Queen was. He took a deep breath, not to work himself up, knowing the Dothraki are here, and Alysanne knows how to defend herself.

Still, the thought lingers that she was alone with Xaro.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	13. Chapter 13: The Offer

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and History and Lore**_

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Offer**

A large feast occurred as Xaro Xhoan Daxos had Daenerys and I sit beside him. Looking around I saw Jorah a few seats away, but still in view if something were to happen. Xaro was going over the history of Qarth to us.

"_Qarth has always and only belonged to the Qartheen. We were never part of Valyria's empire, nor have we ever fallen to a Dothraki horde. Our walls and the Red Waste outside them guard us from such annoyance. Many call the approach to our city the "Garden of Bones" - it needs little tending to grow._

_Our city, however, would be quite a prize for any empire. Qarth straddles two worlds: a greedy and curious west and a rich and mysterious east. The marvels of Yi Ti and Asshai pass through our markets and share berths with the riches of the Free Cities and Westeros._

_Our ports have fulfilled many a trader's dreams - almost as many as they have broken. We call Qarth "the greatest city that ever was or will be"; an easy claim to make if one knows only the docks and customs houses of other cities; an easy lie to swallow if the people see only the gold and jewels of their rulers, which we, The Thirteen who govern the city, are careful to ensure._

_The proud Qartheen shook off the yolk of unjust kings long ago, or so they are told at festivals by the Pureborn, the kings' direct descendants who have controlled the Thirteen ever since. Only now, instead of scepters, they use ships. A merchant only remains on the Thirteen until the others are no longer afraid to deny him, or too afraid to deny his replacement."_

"So, the city is corrupt," I noted.

"If the Spice King hasn't shown it," Xaro agreed. "I hope one day I can put an end to it. I am the first outsider to be one of the Thirteen. In time the Pureborns will have to mingle with others outside their city. Doesn't Westeros have such a practice?"

"There is the monarch who rules, and the Hand, who is the second most powerful person in the Realm. Afterward comes the Small Council with seven positions that rotate based on the individual's worth to the Realm. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Master of Coin, Master of Laws, Master of Whisperers, Master of Ships, and the Grand Maester."

I thought back to my father's reign and the lessons Ser Willem gave. Father went through many Hands over his years, his longest being Tywin Lannister who betrayed him and sacked Kings Landing after the Battle of the Tridents. His last Hand was Wisdom Roosart, a pyromancer for the Alchemist Guild…murdered by Ser Jaime Lannister. Master of Coin was Lord Qarlton Chelsted, Master of Laws Symond Staunton, Master of ships was Lucerys Velaryon, and the Lord Commander was Ser Gerald Hightower. I remember Ser Gerald when checking on his knights during my protection. But two Masters I remember clearly, two who are serving the Usurper, Grand Maester Pycelle and Varys. Grand Maester Pycelle based on Ser Willem accounts was the one who convinced Father to let the Lannister armies into Kings Landing. As for Varys…he was different, not from Westeros. A Eunuch people said, but I recall him being bald and talk in riddles. Even gave me a candied plum when talking to Mother. Still, Varys is the Master of Whisperers, and his spies are everywhere.

Father was basically betrayed by his own men. If I were to return to Westeros, I would make sure no one is a traitor. Ensuring that the Realm comes first before their previous loyalties. Currently, from what Ser Jorah told me, during the travels of the Dothraki Sea, that he was aware that Grand Maester Pycelle and Varys are still in the Small Council. Lord Jon Arryn is Hand of the King, Master of Law was Renly Baratheon, the Usurpers brother, the same with Stannis Baratheon as Master of Ships. Master of Coin is a man who made his upbringing from the Fingers name Petyr Baelish, who partakes in prostitution. As for the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard…Ser Barristan Selmy. One of my protectors, and Rhaegar mentors. He served my family since Aegon the Fifth…I cannot blame him since he is bound by his duties as a brother of the Kingsguard.

Xaro seemed interested in Westeros's version of government. Even though it's a monarchy, there is still a council and Wardens holding their position of power when the Ruler cannot. Daenerys was intrigued by these talks, mainly listening. Some of Xaro's guest who sat near us asked more questions. Like who are the Great Houses, what does one need to do to be a knight or lord? I tried my best to answer, but I did not receive a full extensional of an education. Let alone, the politics could've change in Robert Baratheon reign.

Once dinner was over, Xaro stood up and offered me a hand, "Walk with me."

We walked through the corridors, all around surrounded by the luxury of gold, silk, and gems.

"So, tell me, how long has your manservant been in love with you?" Xaro asked.

I chuckled slightly not expecting that.

"He's not my manservant, and he's not in love with me," I answered. "He's my advisor, my mentor, and friend."

"Unlikely," Xaro chuckled. "I can almost always tell what a man wants."

"What do you know about what a woman wants?" I asked.

"Much more complicated," he answered. "You, for example, what do you want?"

"Home," I answered. "To cross the Narrow Sea and return home and my family's Kingdom."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I promised my sister, I'd protect her," I said.

Xaro gave a soft smile, "You want to conquer the Seven Kingdoms for your sister?"

"It's not because it's my birthright. I have to because it's my duty," I said.

"Ah, a conqueror," he noted.

"And how did you get all this?" I asked changing the subject. "Did someone give it to you or did you take it?"

"No. I come from nothing. I hit the docks like a piece of cargo, except someone normally cares what happens to cargo." He answered.

"So, you wanted more than you had and took it," I concluded. "Sounds like a conqueror too. You're just less ambitious."

Xaro laughed.

"What do you want then?" I asked. "At the gates of the city, you bled for me. Why?"

He offered a hand, "I will show you why."

Taking his hand, he led the way to a hallway where a massive circular door. It was made of metal and gems, forged in intricate designs of the Qartheen culture. Center appeared to be a lotus flower. Xaro unsheathed his sword and started slashing at it. Each impact created sparks, yet there was no sign of damage. Not even a scratch.

"The door and the vault are made of Valyrian stone," he said, he slashed again. "The hardest steel does not make a mark. I offered the greatest locksmith in Qarth their weight in gold if they could break into it. I made the same offer to the greatest thieves. They all went home empty-handed. The only thing that can open this door is this key." As he held his medallion.

I placed my hand on the door, touching Valyrian stone that came from my ancestor's native homeland, "And behind the door?"

He chuckled letting go of his medallion.

"And all of it can be mine if I can open this door?" I asked.

"All? Let us say half," he murmured. I raised a brow as he continued. "More than enough to buy horses, ships, armies— enough to go home."

I know where this was going. He was asking for my favor, him being an eligible man means another this, but I must say in, "And the price?"

"Is marry me," he said.

I scoffed, "That was a romantic proposal."

"I've already married once for love, but the Gods stole her from me," Xaro said. "I come from nothing. My mother and father never owned a pair of shoes. But marry me, and I will give you the Seven Kingdoms and our children will be princes and princesses."

I took a deep breath, glancing at the vault.

"See? I have more ambition than you thought," he murmured. "The time is right, Alysanne Targaryen, first of your name. Robert Baratheon is dead."

I gasped.

The man who murdered my brother Rhaegar at the Trident was dead. The man who stole my family's ancestral home, the Iron Throne. It is worse that it came from a cousin to betray us. Xaro continued to explained that it is chaos in Westeros. That the Kingdom is being ruled by Joffrey Baratheon, who is rumored to be a bastard child between Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister. It may sound hypocrite because I was a product of incest, but my parents were married. The Lannister army was at war with the Starks because Joffrey cut off Eddard Starks head. Meanwhile, Renly Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon are fighting against each other for their claim on the Iron Throne. All believing birthright has no part in the position of ruling a kingdom.

"Think about it, your grace," Xaro said, taking my hand and kissed it.

I stood there comprehending everything.

Daenerys found me, "What is it?"

"Xaro offered me his hand in marriage for armies, horses, and ships," I answered.

"Really?" Daenerys said surprised. "Why so soon?"

"Because there is war in Westeros," I explained. Telling her what his happening in the Seven Kingdoms as we speak.

I was overwhelmed by all this, unsure of what to do. I need another opinion, so I searched for Ser Jorah, needing his advice.

**.o0o.**

What was supposed to be a simple conversation, became a heated argument between Daenerys and Ser Jorah. Daenerys, found this to be our opportunity to go home while Ser Jorah says it's not the honorable method. Currently, my hand in marriage is on the line. I'm a widow and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. There is a kingdom at war, similar to the Blackfyre rebellion where people think they have a claim. I leaned against the table, observing and listening to Daenerys and Ser Jorah's council.

"If you cross the sea with an army you bought –" Ser Jorah started.

"The Seven Kingdoms are at war with one another," Daenerys interrupted. "Four false kings destroying the country."

"To win Westeros, you need support from Westeros," Ser Jorah advise.

"The usurper is dead," Daenerys reminded. "The Starks fight the Lannisters, and the Baratheons fight each other."

"According to your new friend who earned your trust by cutting his hand?" Jorah asked.

Daenerys walked over to me, "Alysanne, the time to strike is now. We need to find ships and an army, or we'll spend the rest of our lives rotting away at the edge of the world."

"Rich men do not become rich by giving more than they get," Jorah countered. "They'll give you ships and soldiers, and they'll own you forever. This is your sister, Daenerys. He is asking for her hand in marriage. The same as Viserys did to you."

Daenerys pulled back realizing Ser Jorah had a point. Xaro Xhoan Daxos is asking for my hand in marriage. The same as Viserys marrying Daenerys to Khal Drogo for an army. Both men are complete utter strangers, and I still know nothing about Xaro than that he came from nothing and became one of the Thirteen richest men in Qarth. Let alone, I don't want to fall into another unhappy marriage. Viserys was hell, and Daenerys is asking me to marry someone who I only met three days ago.

"Moving carefully is the hard way, but it's the right way," Jorah said.

"And if we'd listened to that advise outside the gates of Qarth, we'd all be dead by now," Daenerys countered.

"Leave us," I told Daenerys.

"Alysanne," she spoke.

"I heard your side, and I'll take it into consideration," I told her. It's clear she wants the most accessible way of returning to Westeros. One that can assure ships, armies, and weapons. Unlike the Dothraki where omens decide to go to war and collecting slaves. The technique I had intended for Daenerys if Viserys had listened to me.

Daenerys sighed, as she left the room. I pinched the brim of my nose to relieve the pressure of a headache that was growing. I know she is in her adolescence, and recovering emotionally from the pregnancy and the loss of her intermediate family…but the rashness is not helping. A couple of minutes pass, and I open my eyes seeing Ser Jorah standing their concern.

"I know the opportunity before you seem like the last, you'll ever have, but must be patient," he said.

"I know, but it is so much," I confessed. "I promised to protect Daenerys, and here is a chance to bring her home. And yet it will cost me my hand in marriage. Not even a year has passed of mourning. "

"I only want –"

"What do you want?" I snapped. "Tell me."

"To see you on the Iron Throne," he answered.

"Why?" I asked. "I am not a man, I didn't bring the dragons back. What is so special about me?"

"You have a good claim. A title. A birthright." He answered as he came over standing before me. "But you have something more than that. You may cover it up and deny it, but you have a gentle heart. You would not only be respected and feared, but you would also be loved. Someone who can rule and should rule. Centuries come and go without a person like that coming into the world. There are times when I look at you, and I still can't believe you're real."

Then I saw it written on his face. The expression I've seen from a handful of hosts with their spouses. Devotion, affection, and care. My heart flutter still overwhelmed from Xaro's offered and news happening in Westeros. Now I see a man expressing his emotions towards me. One no other man has shown. I looked away, in which he did the same. The awkward tension engulfed the room.

"So, what would you have me do as my advisor?" I asked. "And experience with war."

He scratched his face, "Make your own way. Find your own ship. You only need one. The allies we need are in Westeros, not Qarth. "

"And how do we get this ship?" I asked.

"I'll find it for you." He answered. "A sound ship with a good captain."

I took a deep breath and looked at him, "I look forward to meeting him."

Ser Jorah gave a bow, "My queen."

He started to leave taking the balcony entrance. Something inside me called out, "Ser Jorah."

He stopped facing me, "Yes, your grace?"

"It's Alysanne," I told him.

A small smile lifted his lips, "Good night, Alysanne."

"Goodnight, Ser Jorah," I replied back.

Once he left, I walked over to the table getting Viserion out of his cage. The golden dragon yawned as he climbed out and onto my arm. I sat on the bed comprehending what was happening. Viserion sensed my distress as he curled up to my form nuzzling.

"Why are men so complicated," I asked the dragon.

Viserion merely yawned.

All this time, Ser Jorah held feelings for me than I anticipated. I thought of him as a friend, a mentor, and advisor. In exchange, he saw me as a friend, ruler, and student. In the past year, he has been by my side when not dealing with personal matters. The lessons in dueling showed no hesitation. Then I thought when he treated my injuries, handing me his canteen, and the small gift of the surcoat. When Viserys died, Jorah carried me to see a healer. Also retrieving the Targaryen Sword and royal ring of kings. What could be simple gestures may be more?

He did hold me when I thought Daenerys committed suicide when walking through the fire. Yes, he restrained me from preventing from going after her into the flames, but afterward, he held me in his arms the entire night. Always by my side.

I genuinely don't know how to feel about him. He's twice my age. An exiled knight, let alone he is by law still married. And yet, I feel comfortable around him. I can talk about anything…well almost anything with him. He does not belittle me, doesn't treat me as a child. Even breaking tradition to teach me how to use a sword. Then again, women of Bear Island are trained to fight. He also makes me smile, and earlier…the way he looked at me…I felt fluster. It is not strange to marry someone older, a common practice. But I am a queen…there would be high expectations of me marrying someone of riches or a High Lord. Then I remember my personal promised, that I deserved to be with someone who will cherish me, respect me.

Loves a spell, one of the host's wife said. There will be a moment it will be like a fairytale, the passion, lust, and devotion that keeps women happen. But loving a man will never last. Only the love of family. And one must do so for the sake of the family.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos gave an offer no woman can refuse. He has money and the ships that can aid me for my cause. However, he is a conqueror, while I'm…I don't know what I am. I'm not as extreme as my ancestors. Visenya says something is coming, and I need to be there to help the people. So, is it conquest in my campaign to return home? Do I give my freedom to a man I don't even know for the sake of the Seven Kingdoms? I promised to find myself, my identity.

Viserion nipped my fingers. I snapped out of my train of thought looking at the dragon. He nuzzled into my hand tilting his head. I sighed, petting his head.

"You're my everything," I told Viserion.

Viserion nodded.

I snorted, then sighed, "I need to focus on Visenya's advise. I need to go to the Undying and find another source of funding."

Pyat Pree is a wizard from the House of the Undying. That demonstration seemed convincing, but is it truly magic or a parlor trick. Xaro did explain the warlocks, focus on reading and drinking shade of the evening that dwindles their minds. Maesters under influences, probably not what Visenya was referencing. The undying will show me what is to come? Whatever this Great War is, is driving me insane. If the conquest ring hasn't magically appeared, I would have considered myself mad.

I took a long deep breath, a spirit is telling me to talk with the undying, Xaro Xhoan Daxos has offered me his hand in marriage to fund my campaign to take back the Iron Throne. Daenerys wants me to take the offer. Ser Jorah has feelings for me and wants me to take the honorable path. The Usurper Robert Baratheon is dead, and war is happening in Westeros.

Soundly there was a sneeze with a puff of smoke from Viserion.

And dragons exist.

Is there anything else I need to add to my complicated list?

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	14. Chapter 14: Seeking Investments

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Seeking Investments**

I practice with my sword in the gardens. The last couple of nights have been stressful, that I had a hard time sleeping. My mind utterly active in the news from the West, Xaro Xhoan Daxos offering marriage to fund my campaign, and Ser Jorah have feelings for me. I genuinely need Visenya's guidance on this. Once more, the dreams don't come. If I were to talk to Daenerys…she would insist on Xaro's offer.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos seems to have potential. His has the money that can provide an armies and ships. The problem was…I lose my independence. I lost five years of my life being married to Viserys. A forced marriage might I add since my brother raped me. Doing this was supposed to prevent the exposure of my ruining. When in fact he ruined me. Five years of being raped and abused. Now I have my freedom, and less than a year a man who bled for me is offering marriage to reclaim my birthright.

Ser Jorah made an excellent argument. In order to claim Westeros, my armies need to be Westerosi. If it weren't for the caution of Varys spies everywhere, I would have sent letters to possible allies in Westeros. House Martell and House Velaryon. The Martells and Velaryon are a distant cousin. House Velaryon being descendants of Old Valyria and the Martells not only married their Princess to my brother, but my ancestor Daenerys married Prince Maron Martell, and Princess Mariah Martell married King Daeron the second who was my fifth great grandfather. I recalled playing with an older girl, her name was Arianne, Prince Doran's daughter. If I can find a way to contact them, to seek support then maybe I have a chance of getting Westerosi armies.

However, I still need armies from Essos. The best army that I am aware of is the Golden Company, doubt they would support the Targaryens since they are descendants of the men who supported the Blackfye. Let alone Bittersteel stealing the ancestral sword Blackfyre. Then again, they fight for gold until it runs out. Once more I have no money. Even if there was gold in the Targaryen Vaults, no doubt Robert Baratheon and his family spent it all. Leaving me nothing but a name, a claim, and a birthright. All three in what rich men want in the step of status.

"Alysanne," Daenerys called out from her bedroom balcony.

I stopped my training and turned looking up at her, "What is it, Danny?"

Daenerys came downstairs and stood in front of me. I sheathed my sword and looked at her. She seemed a bit exhausted, as if not having enough sleep. The last few days, we haven't spoken to each other. Not after the heated debated with Ser Jorah about Xaro's offer.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For pressuring you to accept Xaro's offer," she answered. "I was basically doing what Viserys has done to me."

I sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder, "I had the same intentions for you, married to a rich man. Although Viserys heard warlord, I tried to match you someone suitable and might have known. But all is forgiven. I know you want to go home, as do I, but we are participating in a deadly game."

"I don't understand," she said.

"When you play the game of thrones, you win, or you die. There is no middle ground." I told her. "One mistake, and it will be the end of House Targaryen."

Daenerys nodded.

I decided to test her, "Black stag, on a golden field?"

"Huh?" she replied.

"What house has a black stag on a golden field?" I asked.

"Baratheon," she answered.

"A golden lion, on a crimson field?"

"Lannister."

"A grey direwolf, on a white field?"

"Stark."

"A gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field."

"Martell."

"A golden rose, on a green field?"

"Tyrell."

"A white falcon volant and crescent moon on a blue field?"

"Arryn," she said.

"Red Salmon within a gold treasure, on a white field."

"Tully."

"No, I described House Mooton. House Tully is a leaping silver trout on a field of blue and red. You need to know Westeros. We can't rely on birthright. Aegon did not claim the Seven Kingdoms out of birthright. No, he took it, and he learned about his enemies. Father left a heavy shadow over us, one that is difficult from removing. We can't invade Westeros like children. We need to be smart and take things one step at a time, and thinking three steps ahead. When we have the money, I will find you a tutor. Educate you on Westeros."

"Can't Ser Jorah teach me, he is an Andal after all." She said.

I bark up a laugh.

"What?" she asked confused.

"The Dothraki calls him an Andal because they believe all Westerosi are Andals," I explained. "Do you know which Kingdom Bear Island belongs too?"

"Um…the North," she guessed.

"And who are the Norths inhabitants."

"…the Northmen."

"And the Northmen are descendant from?"

Daenerys paused thinking about it. I sighed, knowing I got a lot to teach her about Westeros, "The First Men. The Andals do not partake in the cold. Barely few Andals married up North. Jorah told me, his family is more First Men than Andal. The same for Dorne being more Rhoynish."

"I did not know that," she said. "Again, how do you know all this."

"I read, and all the tutors we had growing up focus on Westerosi history. You were busy playing games." I teased.

Daenerys stuck her tongue at me. "I did not receive a formal education."

"I know, and it's one mistake Viserys made," I told her. "Once we have funding, I will find you a tutor."

"But I'm seventeen, I don't need a tutor," she countered.

"You're acting more like your shoe size than age," I sighed.

Daenerys pouted knowing I was right. "What is your plan now?"

"Xaro has arranged several appointments with the Thirteen," I announced. "Will be meeting with the Spice King, the Silk King, the Copper King, and the Wine King tomorrow. Hopefully, I can arrange a meeting with the Gold King, the Salt King, and Ivory King soon, the others still have not responded to my letters. If I can get a few of these men to invest in our campaign, then we should have a good start. Otherwise, we either wait for Magister Illyrio send a ship to collect us, or Ser Jorah finds us one."

"Is that why Ser Jorah has been absent?" Daenerys asked.

"Yes, he's seeing if he can find us one ship at least," I answered.

"Can I help with these appointments?" Daenerys asked.

I paused thinking about it. Based on Daenerys behavior, I worry her temper will not set a good example. Her outburst at the gate almost cost the Khalasar their lives. Then I thought about the Copper King and his wife, Kristina. They got along just well. So hopefully a conversation with the Copper Family will gain some investments.

"I'm sure you can handle the Copper King," I decided. "But you can't let your temper get the best of you. Even if they reject to lend ships or investing in our cause."

"What can we promise them in return?" she asked.

"Triple the payment, no docking fees in Westeros or taxes," I listed, along with other options. "But whatever you do, do not sell your body or betrothals. You are still in mourning, and it hasn't been a year yet."

Daenerys nodded, although that tradition may die out. Usually, when a woman is a widow, she waits a year in mourning before seeking another husband if she or the patriarch of her family desire it so. It was a sign of respect towards the late husband. A period to grieve. However, I noticed Daenerys hasn't grieved for some time. In the early weeks, she mourned dearly. But once we escaped the Red Waste, she appears less emotional. Then again, I didn't grieve for Viserys. I mourned for my brother, but not my brother-husband. The boy he once was, not the man he became.

"Out of curiosity, what do you think of Ser Jorah?" she asked changing the subject.

"Danny," I groaned.

Daenerys smirked, "You like him."

"Shut your mouth, or I'll push you in the pool." I threaten.

Daenerys smirk widens as she started to sing, "You like him. You want to kiss him. You want to hug him."

"That's it, you're so dead!" I snapped and started chasing her.

Danny laughed, as she tried to escape. We ended up at one of the fountains as she started splashing water at me. I gasped, not expecting that and splash right back. Just like in Volantis we acted like children in the water. Having our own version of Dance of the Dragons. In the end, we were utterly soaked. We laughed at how drench we were. Being so long to be fooled once again.

**.o0o.**

Xaro and I stood in the main entrance of the Spice King's palace. Aggo standing in the corner, hands resting on his weapons as a precaution. It was close to midmorning, and we arrived here almost an hour ago. A considerate hour, enough to prepare and not disturb the owner at the early hours. However, I find this long wait a bit disrespectful. Someone being five, ten, twenty minutes late is one thing. But almost an hour I found it rude. Several servants came over offering refreshments, but I kindly declined.

"Is waiting for a long time is part of Qarth's custom or is he being disrespectful," I muttered, standing beside Xaro.

"The Spice King is the second wealthiest man in Qarth. He makes everyone wait," Xaro said, standing there patiently. "Of course, you could have avoided this embarrassment if you married the wealthiest man in Qarth."

"I had a husband," I sighed.

"Viserys is gone, Alysanne." Xaro reminded. "You are far too young to be a widow forever and far too beautiful."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," I murmured.

"I have traveled very far in my life and met many women, but none that are immune to flattery," Xaro replied.

"The Dragoness of the West!" a man yelled.

"Ah. Here he comes," Xaro said.

At the top of the steps, it was none other than the Representative who denied Daenerys and her Khalasar accesses to Qarth. The Man who tried to pet Viserion without consent. He's the Spice King! Straight away I knew this appointment will be a dead end. He came down with his company, the man utterly excited like Magister Illyrio when Viserys, Daenerys, and I arrived at his Manse.

"Forgive me. I had terrible dreams last night," the Spice King apologies, leaning against the rails. "Terrible dreams. I could not sleep until the sun was shining and the birds were singing."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I replied. "Hopefully tonight sweet dreams shall succumb to you."

The Spice King Smiled, "Look what a beauty you are now the Red Waste has been washed off you. I am sorry about all the unpleasantness. The silver hair of a true Targaryen." He walked down the stairways, "Xaro Xhoan Daxos, she is far too lovely for a glorified dockworker like yourself."

"Very true, and yet they say that your grandfather, who sold pepper off the back of a wagon, married a lady far lovelier and higher born than himself." Xaro challenged playfully.

"Every lady alive was lovelier and higher born than my grandfather," The Spice King played along, causing his company to chuckle. I cleared my throat to get everyone back on track. The Spice King looked at me, "Did my servants not offer you something to eat, to drink? I'll have them flogged in the square."

"Thank you, my lord. You are a gracious host, but there is no servant alive that can bring me what I require." I said.

"Hmm. She has a talent for drama, this one," the Spice King murmured. "So, my little queen, what is it you want?"

"My claimant. The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." I answered.

"I fear I'm no better than a servant in this regard. I cannot give you what I do not have," the Spice King said.

"I'm not asking you for the kingdoms," I clarified. "I am asking you for your support and lending some of your ships."

"I need my ships as well," The Spice King replied, looking down on me. "I use them, you see, to bring spices from one port to another."

"I understand, and if you grant me this request, you will be repaid three times over when I retake the Iron Throne," I told him.

"Retake?" the Spice king asked. "Did you once sit on the Iron Throne?"

"Yes," I answered, presenting the Targaryen Ring. "My father, King Aerys the Second sat on it along with his forefathers. This ring states who the rightful ruler is, sir. I do not command, I do not order, and I demand of you to give me your ships. I am asking from a queen to a king."

The Spice King came down till he stood on the last steps, "Let me explain my position, your grace. Unlike you, I do not have exalted ancestors. I make my living by trade. And I judge every trade on its merits. You ask for ships. You say I shall be repaid triple. I do not doubt your honesty or your intentions. But before you repay your debts, you must seize the Seven Kingdoms. Do you have an army?"

"No," I replied.

"You do not have an army." He sighed. "Do you have powerful allies in Westeros?"

"My cousins from House Velaryon and possibly House Martell," I said.

"When were you there last?" He asked.

"When I was four," I answered.

"So, in truth, you have no allies," the Spice King concluded. "Forgive me, your grace, but I cannot make an investment based on wishes and dreams."

"By any chance, do you know Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of Pentos?" I asked.

"Yes, we've met. A shrewd man," the Spice King answered.

"On my sister's wedding, he gave her three petrified dragon eggs. He believed…the world believed that the ages had turned them to stone. How many centuries has it been since dragons roamed Essos? My sister put those eggs into the fire, she was unhurt. By dawn, three dragons have been resurrected from extinction. They say seeing is believing, but you saw with your own eyes, that believing is seeing."

The Spice King took my hand and kissed it, "I admire your passion. But in business, I trust in logic, not passion. I'm sorry, your grace."

"I understand, thank you for this opportunity to speak," I said.

"If you were to make progress on your campaign, then I might consider making an investment," he added.

I nodded, "Good day, my lord."

The Spice King nodded, as he gave my hand a squeeze before joining his company back into the palace. I sighed, seeing his perspective. He was not a monarch, even though he earned the name the Spice King. He is a man, and every business decision can reward him or ruin his company. Nothing else to say, I walked over to Xaro who escorted me out of the Spice King's property.

"I made an appointment with the Silk King, he may consider your offer," Xaro announced.

"I appreciate your support," I said.

"Although, my offer still stands," he inquires.

"A conqueror with much determination," I murmured.

Xaro chuckled slightly, as we got on the horses and started riding to the Silk Kings estate. Hopefully, the Silk King can make a difference. Any of the Thirteen can make a difference. If not, Ser Jorah needs to find that ship so we can sail out of this city to find better supporters. Otherwise, my last resort is marrying Xaro Xhoan Daxos.

**.o0o.**

_At Xaro's Palace._

Irri was in the gardens mending some of their traveling clothes. Although she had the opportunity to relax, enjoy visiting Qarth and spend time with the Khalasar she needed a distraction. Rakharo death made her heart heavy, her mourning taking a sharp blow. Even though her Khaleesi did a Dothraki funeral, she is afraid of burning, and extra offering won't be enough to let Rakharo ride with his ancestors in the Night Land.

So Irri distracted herself by doing errands and chores. Taking her talents in sewing, as she repairs her mistress clothing and Alysanne. Noting some of the tears were from the dragon's claws. Nothing too extreme, a simple stitch here and there. She finished mending Alysanne vest, the one that Viserys cut and added designs to mend away the terrible event. Once done, she got up and brought it to the Dragoness bedchamber, setting it on the bed, excited for the compliment her friend will give.

A purr caught her attention, turning to the cage where the golden dragon sat watching her. Irri smiled, as she came over and took cube meat and set it inside. Viserion's eyes widen in delight as he came over and tried to breathe fire. The flames came out in flickers, not as strong as Drogon's fire, but enough to cook the raw meat. Irri chuckled, adjusting the cover to let the dragon rest.

Suddenly she heard a noise coming from Daenery's bedroom.

"Khaleesi, Khaleesi, are you back?" Irri called out entering the solar room that joined the Dragon Sisters' bedchamber.

She entered Daenerys bedchamber seeing Drogon and Rhaegal acting up, but they weren't in their cages, but one on the ground. She ran across the room to see what is the matter. Not realizing Doreah was there walking behind her. The woman from Lys took a silk tassel cord and immediately wrapped it around Irri's throat. The Dothraki woman, gasped, trying to pull the cord away, yet Doreah kept a stronghold.

"A trader from Qarth told me the greatest pleasure comes from a silk cord around the neck. Tied very, very tight! The reason so few people indulge in this exquisite pleasure. He told me the dangers, a moment too long, the ecstasy becomes death," Doreah murmured into Irri's ear.

With one sharp tug on the rope, Doreah snapped Irri's neck. A soft crack could be heard, as Irri's body went limp. "It is known."

She carelessly dropped Irri on the ground along with the silk tassel. Pleased that the Dothraki woman was dead. Consider Irri a thorn in her thigh, lecturing her what it means to be a handmaiden. The Woman from Lys turned to Drogon and Rhaegal. During her conversations of gathering information about Xaro Xhoan Daxos, the Warlock had made her an offer she cannot refuse. Give him the dragons, and she shall be a rich wife to one of the Thirteen. A Merchant Queen.

Doreah, in the beginning, loved her Khaleesi. After she was bought by Magister Illyrio to be Viserys mistress. A wealthy mistress who pleased the dragon, far better than Alysanne. The clothes, jewelry, and a title. All she had to do is keep out of Alysanne sight. The year as a Mistress was terrific. Until Viserys married Daenerys to the Khal Drogo, and all that luxury vanished. Doreah did what Viserys asked, teaching Daenerys how to be a great lover, and yet her payment was a strike in the face.

Don't get her wrong, she loves her Khaleesi, but those weeks in the Red Waste nearing starvation was her last straw. She will not travel across the world for a throne when there is more opportunity here in Qarth. So, putting on leather gloves, she cautiously put Drogon and Rhaegal in the cage. She then went to Alysanne room, collecting Viserion who attempt to bite and scratch her. Doreah winced in pain roughly shoving the beast in the cage with his brother.

Securing a cover over the cage, she walked down the steps to see a man clad in white and grey robes covered in blood. She stumbled back thinking she was next, until seeing through the opening of his mask it was the Warlock.

"As promised," Doreah said, handing the dragons over.

"As promised," Pyat Pree agreed. "You know where to go?"

Doreah nodded.

"Stay there until further instruction," Pyat Pree ordered before vanishing before Doreah's eyes.

Doreah blinked from the magic she witnessed.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

After a very long day of meeting members of the Thirteen, it seems the day has been a waste. Xaro still trying to pursue me, helped me off my horse. Once on my feet, a purple palanquin arrived and Daenerys stepped out. She smiled slightly as she came over to us. We began to walk through the palace gardens.

"How were your appointments?" Daenerys asked.

"The Spice King refuses me because I'm a bad investment. The Silk King won't support me because of his business with the Lannisters. Why offend his best customers? And the Wine King offers me a single ship on the condition that I lie with him for a night." I answered.

"Does he think we'll whore ourselves for a boat?" Daenerys muttered.

"What news do you bring of the Copper King?" I asked her.

"He is considering to invest in funding, but no ships." She answered.

"It's a start," I sighed. "But not enough. Hopefully, the Gold King, Ivory King, Salt King, and the others can be more supportive. If only our family were smart enough to make an account in the Iron Bank would things be easier."

"When I came to this city, I had nothing. Truly nothing. I slept by the docks. And when I could find work loading the ships, I would eat. If not, I dreamed of food." Xaro said. "Today, I am the richest man in Qarth. Do you think the path from poverty to wealth is always pure and honorable? I have done many things, your grace, that a righteous man would condemn. And here I am, with no regrets."

Mother's crown came to mind. Having no regrets on selling it, knowing it provided enough to survive for a year before the next host took us in. It would have been two to three more years if Viserys wasn't so spoiled. Enough time to find work and relationships.

Xaro opened the gates to the gardens of the East Wing. Daenerys and I entered, but stopped seeing Qartheen guard's dead on the ground. All their throat slit, no other injury. Daenerys gasped, as she started running.

"Bar the gates," Xaro ordered his guards who had to accompany him. "Ring the bells."

"Daenerys!" I called out to her, drawing my sword, as Aggo, Kovarro, and I went after her.

We rushed through the gardens, in the Dothraki quarters, we found several members laying on the ground. I stopped placing a hand over Malakko's face feeling the breath. Looking around, seeing food and wine splutter everywhere assumed it was laced with a sleeping potion or opiates. This concluded that this was not a targeted genocide. So, what could've happened…shit, the most valuable things in the world are here. The dragons.

We ran, seeing three Dothraki guards found dead on the steps. We entered my quarts seeing Viserion's cage on the ground. I hurried over, removing the blanket finding Viserion missing. Daenerys gasped, rushing to her quarters seeing the two cages absent and Irri on the ground.

"Where are they?" Daenerys demanded, going over to Irri.

I came over placing a hand on Irri's face to see if she was breathing. No warm air, that is when I saw it. A deep bruise ringed around her neck. She was strangled.

"Where are my dragons?" Daenerys screamed.

Yes, where are our dragons?

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	15. Chapter 15: The King of Qarth

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 15: The King of Qarth**

_Alysanne's POV_

Everyone was in search of the dragons, from Xaro's guards to the Dothraki warriors. The dragons were only babies and learning how to breathe fire. When Daenerys and I are around, they have better control compare to be surrounded by strangers. So, the fear of a potential fire may occur. Let alone Doreah was missing. We don't know if she has been captured, being familiar with the dragons or dead. Daenerys was freaking out, three of Dothraki warriors are dead, Irri is dead, and more innocent lives are dead.

Just last night we had to perform the Dothraki funeral, which Xaro had a field and offered some of his property as collateral damage of keeping his word. Promising that no harm will come to us, and not members of the Khalasar are dead. Irri's having the most substantial impact because she is the most devoted of them all. At least she is now riding with her ancestors and return to Rakharo. Still, the fact she was murder is on us.

By morning, it was a never-ending search. All morning searching the grounds of Xaro's palace, vineyards, and acres in case the thief is either Dothraki or one of Xaro's staff. The Man from the Thirteen states his servants live on the grounds. There can be someone greedy to steal the dragons and sell them as an exotic pet. Maybe the Ivory King had a part in this since he is a merchant on animals. Unfortunately, after hours of searching, they were not on the grounds. A sense of anxiety filled Daenerys and I, from our own and the bond with the dragons.

Exhausted, I convinced Daenerys to return to the East Wing to rest for a bit. Daenerys was reluctant to comply since she hasn't slept since the night before yesterday. Leading the way, Xaro appeared as he came over walking with us.

"I have demanded a meeting of the Thirteen," Xaro announced as he followed Daenerys and me after a failed search. "One of them did this or knows who did."

"You are one of the Thirteen," I said, walking up the steps.

"If I wanted your dragons, I would have taken them. They mean nothing to me on their own." Xaro countered.

"Nothing?" Daenerys gasped offended. "They're more valuable than anything in the world."

"They are the last three dragons in over a hundred years," I added.

"Shall we look inside my vault and see what selling your dragons would buy me already?" Xaro insisted, holding his medallion. "We will get them back."

I scowled at him, stepping down until our eyes were level, "There is no we, so why would you help us get them back?"

"I took you under my protection in front of the rulers of my city. A man is what others say he is and no more. If they say that Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a liar, my word is worth nothing. I cannot let this thing happen to you under my roof," Xaro explained.

"But it did happen under your roof," I growled.

"Alysanne, many times in my life I have been—"

"We don't care where you've been," Daenerys snapped, rushing into the apartment guarded by Malakko.

I sighed taking a deep breath, "There are three dragons out there that are untrained. We need to find them before something happens."

"I understand," Xaro said taking my hand and giving it a kiss. "We will find them. I'll come to retrieve you for the meeting."

"Thank you, Xaro," I said, before entering the apartment.

Daenerys laid on her bed sobbing. I came to her side, giving her my comfort. The dragons were born from her, the reason why she is called the Mother of Dragons. The eggs were a gift from Magister Illyrio. Eggs that people thought were turned to stone. This was personal since she is the one who resurrected them saying she had dreams of dragons. Dragon dreams, a trait common to us Targaryens.

Once she cried herself to sleep, I tuck her in making sure Malakko and Kovarro waited by each entrance before going to my apartment. I removed the golden chain accessory and laid on the bed staring at the mosaic tile ceiling. A sense of fear stirring in the back of my head, yet I wasn't afraid. Could it be the bond from Viserion? Either way, we need to find the dragons before something terrible happens.

**.o0o.**

It would be afternoon when Jorah returned. He was out of breath as if he ran all this way from the port of Qarth. Daenerys was in her chambers after crying herself to sleep. It's probably best she rested before the meeting this afternoon. I sat on the bed, holding the figuring and looked up surprised to see him.

"You came back," I whispered, standing up.

"As soon as I heard," Jorah panted. "Do you know anything?"

"No. Irri and three members of the Khalasar are dead," I said.

"I know," he sighed. "She was a good –"

"She's dead," I interrupted, eyes watered. "She died alone. She died for us, and we couldn't protect her."

"Doreah?" Jorah asked.

"We can't find her," Daenerys answered. "She must be dead too. Daenerys feels like she is failing her people. Since she is the one who led them out of the Red Waste and into the slaughterhouse."

"I should have been here," Jorah confessed in guilt.

I shook my head, "You went to find us a ship."

"My place is by your side," Jorah said. "I shouldn't have left you alone with these people."

"These people?" I asked.

"They are not to be trusted," he answered.

"And who is to be trusted?" I replied. "Who are our people? The Targaryens? I only knew a handful, and all but one is dead. My father gone mad, my brother Rhaegar started a war over a girl, as his family was brutally slaughter. My mother died in childbirth, and Viserys-my brother-husband, and he would've let a thousand men rape Danny and I if it had got him the crown. And Danny, she is only a child, barely having knowledge of our House. The Dothraki? Most of them turned on their Khaleesi the day that Khal Drogo fell from his horse."

"Your people are in Westeros," he said. "House Velaryon is the brother to the Targaryen. House Martell are your cousins."

"They are not enough. The people in Westeros think Daenerys and I are dead."

"They will soon know," he assured.

"And then what?" I challenged. "They're praying for our return. They'll wave dragon banners and shout my name? That's what my brother believed, and he was a fool." I walked over to the bed picking up the carved dragon. "Maybe we are meant to go extinct. All us perishing in Old Valyria. The Dragons grew small, and we grew smaller until the last one died from the pollution of incest."

"You are not your brother. Trust me, Alysanne," he said, facing me with that look before.

I crossed my arms, "There it is – 'trust me.' And it's you I should trust, Ser Jorah? Only you? I don't need trust any longer. I don't want it, and I don't have room for it."

The realization came in how damage I indeed was. Viserys doing more than leaving physical scars. As the remainder of his cruelty will remain on my chest where the sword cut me. I trusted him to protect Daenerys and me as our older brother. A responsibility Mother put on him if anything were to happen to her. He gave his word, and ten years later be broke that vow. He was my brother, and he raped me. He was my brother, and he forced me to marry him to keep the Targaryen line pure. Even by the Seven customs of marriage, did he fail to protect me…from him. Trust cannot be given so easily.

Ser Jorah came over placing a hand on my shoulder, "You are too young to be so—"

"And you are too familiar," I snapped, then stop realizing what I said. "I'm sorry. I've been hurt to many times."

He removed his hand off my shoulder and wiped the tear that unknowing slide down my cheek, "Forgive me, Alysanne. No one can survive in this world without help. All your life you've helped Daenerys. But no one's helped you. No one. Let me help you, please."

My heart flutters again from this affection. Nothing like Viserys in prideful obligation. Nor was it like Xaro's flirtations and gifts. Jorah was offering himself, not wanting something in return than seeing me on the Iron Throne. If only I could trust him completely. To be open around him.

"Tell me how?" he asked.

I took a deep breath staring into his blue eyes, "Find the dragons."

"As you wish," he said, as he stepped back giving a bow before leaving.

I stood there wiping the rest of the tears away and stared at the dragon figurine.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Ser Jorah had his assumption in who took the dragons. The mysterious woman with the hexagon mask from the party. She knew things that no one from Qarth should have known about. Asking questions, he learned that the woman he was referring to was Quaithe, a Shadowbinder from the fabled city Asshai who helps merchants and travelers on their journey. Once more Asshai from the Shadow Lands is mention again, the far east ones go the stronger the magic becomes. Let alone, people stating Quaithe is clairvoyant, no one can keep a secret from her.

Ser Jorah knew he had to be careful of this woman is the one who took dragons. Never in his life has he fought a sorceress. He found Quaithe at her shop/residence. In the small private gardens under a canopy, the Shadowbinder sat next to a naked man who lay on a plush table back exposed. Quaithe, sat beside him, dipping a brush into a skull of a ram collecting blood and apply it to the sigil she has created.

Jorah cautiously arrives, seeing what he interprets as blood magic.

"Jorah the Andal," Quaithe greeted, still focus on her client, painting ram's blood on his back. "This man must sail past Old Valyria. All who travel too close to the Doom must have protection."

"I didn't come here for lessons," Jorah said.

"No, you came for the dragons," she confirmed.

"You have them?" he asked, placing his hand on his sword. "Where are they?"

"Draw your sword," she challenged, stopping her work as she stood up facing him. "See what your steel is worth."

Jorah stared into her dark brown eyes trying to find any hesitation or truth.

"You want to please the Dragoness of the West," she murmured, then returned to her client. "You love her."

Jorah took a deep breath, "Where are the dragons?"

Quaithe turned facing him, her eyes sharp and narrow, "Will you betray her again, Jorah the Andal? Will you betray her again?"

Jorah felt a shiver of fear. The only betrayal he has done to Alysanne was telling information about her, Viserys, and Daenerys location and events in Pentos. His last act when part of their company was Daenerys pregnancy. The woman he cares for is devoted to her sister in a motherly way. Meaning informing Varys of Rhaego betrayed both women. It was when he saw two women entering the fire, and no burns on them did, he gives his life for the Dragon Sisters, and over time love formed for Alysanne.

So, glaring into the Shadowbinder, he answered, "Never."

Quaithe's brown eyes linger on him, then step back, once more returning to her client, yet she stared into his eyes in a trance, "The thief you seek is with her now."

Breaking from the trance, she returned to her sigil on the sailor.

Jorah paused figuring out the riddle. Only a handful of people would be with Alysanne right now. Deducting Daenerys, Aggo, Malakko, and Kovarro leaves only one person. Xaro, the man has been pursuing Alysanne since arriving in Qarth, asking her hand in marriage in exchange for ships, armies, and horses. Then a thought came up, Xaro is holding the dragons' hostage and won't return them unless Alysanne marries him. Knowing his Queen has a gentle heart and on a drastic situation can succumb to pressure would oblige.

Recalling Malakko mentioning a Meeting of the Thirteen as Xaro's palace he started running back.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

The Thirteen arrived, and all were present in the Gathering Hall. At the table were twelve of the thirteen, recognizing the Spice King who was sitting center, the Copper King, Silk King, Wine King who I talked to yesterday, Pyat Pree the Warlock, and other members. On the other side of the room, Xaro sat on a chair, while Daenerys and I stood beside him. Aggo and Kovarro behind us, as a precaution.

I stood there, as Xaro explained that somebody entered his palace killing his guards, three Dothraki Warriors, the handmaiden Irri, kidnapping the other Handmaiden Doreah, and have taken the dragons. This is supposed to be a service announcement since the Dragons are not adequately trained. Drogon and Viserion have control over their fire when eating, but Rhaegal does have a tendency to sneeze small bits of fire. Dragon fire cannot be extinguished so easily compare to normal fire. It takes longer to die out, and consumes faster and hotter. The second hottest thing than lava from a volcano.

However, once more the pride and vanity of the Thirteen are not listening to the dangers the city is in. Yes, the dragons are small, but as the saying goes, it takes one little spark to cause a catastrophic event.

"I did not leave the comfort of my home to come to yours and be called a thief," the Spice King said bitterly.

"No one is calling you a thief," Xaro assured.

"Who is she to accuse us?" The Spice King said, pointing at Daenerys.

"Please, they're my children. I'm begging you," Daenerys begged.

"Begging us? It wasn't very long ago you were threatening us," the Silk King reminded.

"Without us, the dragons will die," Daenerys informed.

"It will be for the best," the Spice King said. "Your dragons will bring the world nothing but death and misery, my dear."

"As if humanity hasn't already done that," I countered.

The Spice King glared at me. "If I knew where they were, I would not tell either of you."

"You are cruel, my friend," Pyat Pree said, to the Spice King. "The Mother of Dragons is in the right. She must be reunited with her babies. I will help you, Khaleesi."

"How?" Daenerys asked.

"I will take you to the House of the Undying where I have put them," Pyat Pree answered.

"You stole the dragons," I accused. "You killed our friends and Xaro's guards. Have you no shame?"

"When I learned you two were coming to our city, I made an arrangement with the King of Qarth," Pyat Pree explained.

The eleven Kings of the Thirteen laughed.

Pyat Pree rolled his eyes ignoring them, "He procured them for me."

"But there is no King of Qarth, only merchants of their trade," I reminded.

"There is now," Xaro said standing up. "That was the other half of the arrangement."

I was baffled by this. All this time Xaro took our dragons and gave them to the Warlock. The man who bled for us, who promised no harm shall come to us, killed Irri, three Dothraki warriors, and his own guards. The eleven of the Thirteen were surprised as well, not expecting this. Meanwhile, Pyat Pree stood up walking around the table to join Xaro.

Xaro stepped forward standing center of the curved table arms crossed, "You would keep your gates and your minds closed to everything outside your walls but Qarth cannot remain the greatest city that ever was of it refuses to change. I will open Qarth to the world, as I forced it to open itself to me."

"Your ambition is an inspiration. But like all upstarts, you overreach," the Spice King lectured. "Three dragons the size of cats and an alliance with a charlatan do not make you a king."

"An upstart and a charlatan? Empires have been built by less. Those on the margins often come to control the center, and those in the center make room for them, willingly or otherwise." Xaro said.

Daenerys looked at me scared. Kovarro and Aggo stood beside us, their arakh in hand. My right hand grasping the Targaryen sword's handle in caution. Jorah was right, you can never trust anyone in Qarth.

"The Mother of Dragons will be with her babies," Pyat Pree stepped forward, informing his members then turn to stare at Daenerys. "She will give them her love, and they will thrive by her side…" all the servants in white stepped behind each of the Thirteen. "…forever."

Suddenly all of the servants took their daggers and slit each of the eleven from the Thirteen's throats. I gasped in shock, not anticipating it, and glanced at their faces, seeing that each of the servants have the same face. They were all Pyat Pree. It was impossible for a man to have eleven identical siblings, and seeing this man was called a warlock confirms we are once again dealing with magic.

"Run," I yelled, as I grabbed Daenerys hand and began to run. Aggo and Kovarro right behind us, in our escape.

We made it to the corridor, climbing up the steps nearly colliding to the Warlock. I stumble back drawing my sword while Aggo and Kovarro shielded us. The Warlock blue lips smiled, his white complexion contrasting to the shadows the late afternoon hour. Unexpecting, a sword pierced Pyat Pree from behind through his sternum. On the other end of the blade was Ser Jorah. However, the warlock continues to look deviant at Daenerys, unfazed by his fatal injury.

"A mother should be with her children," Pyat Pree said.

Jorah drew his blade out, and the Warlock vanished leaving a pile of dark purple robes. Only to appear behind us, startling us entirely.

"Where will you run to, Daenerys Stormborn?" the warlock asked. "Your dragons wait for you in the House of the Undying. Come see them."

Ser Jorah grabbed my arm leading the way while Kovarro took Daenerys with Aggo guarding our backs. We rushed out of the palace and ran as far as we could to get out of Xaro's palace.

**.o0o.**

We took refuge in an abandoned villa. Last night, we were cautious, staying out of the city know Xaro and Pyat Pree are searching for us. By morning, I was woken up trying to think of a plan. The Khalasar is still in Xaro's palace, no doubt holding them hostage if he wanted us to return for their freedom. If he thinks this will get me to marry him, think again. Also, the warlock has the dragons. We need to get them out. However, Pyat Pree wants Daenerys; therefore, things are more complicated.

Daenerys wandered around the ruins coming near the window, touching the boards.

"Careful, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah warned. "Xaro owns this city, and the warlocks have thousands of eyes watching for you."

"Can this get any more complicated?" I sighed. "Any news on a ship?"

"I found one – a ship with a good captain." Ser Jorah said. "She leaves for Astrapor tomorrow. "

"Astrapor?" I asked to be sure.

"We cannot stay here," Jorah said.

"They have my dragons." Daenerys interrupted. "A mother does not flee without her children."

"They're not your children," I told her. "They are our familiars. I know they call you the Mother of Dragons, and I know you love them, as I love Viserion, but you didn't grow them in your womb. They are dragons, Daenerys."

"And if we stay in Qarth, we'll die," Jorah insisted.

"You should sail to Astrapor. I'm sure you'll be safe there," Daenerys countered, walking away.

I sighed, looking at Ser Jorah, "When a Targaryen bonds with a dragon, it's a bond that only death could sever. Right now, we can sense Drogon and Viserion's distress, and they can sense outs. If you want to leave, I understand."

"You know I would die for you. I will never abandon you." Ser Jorah said. "I'm sworn to protect you, to serve."

"If the dragons are in the House of the Undying, then take us there!" Daenerys who was eavesdropping returned.

"That's what the warlock wants," I told her. "He told you so himself. If you enter that place, you will never leave again. I thought I lost you to the fire. This isn't dragon magic, Danny. His magic is strong."

"And what of my magic?" She challenged. "You saw me step into the fire. You watched the witch burn. What did the flames do to me? Do you remember."

"I remember," I scowled at her. "And I felt the worse pain imaginable, the same I felt when Ser Willem told me of Mother's death."

Daenerys looked down. She knows I don't blame her for Mother's death. Queen Rhaella like the rest of us was frail women from incest. Her body dealt with so many complications, giving birth nine times in her life. Four out of her nine children surviving the infancy year, and yet her two daughters are alive as young women. Childbirth is a high risk, and Mother knew that, and father wanted more children. Even though he put Mother through hell.

"They are my children," Daenerys said. "And they are the only children I will ever have."

I sighed, seeing this affection for three dragons. Drogon and Rhaegal were under her care. As the black dragon was her familiar and the green her ward until he finds his own rider. A Seed, as our ancestor Rhaenyra put it of a person with Valyrian blood. Unless Daenerys or I have a child that Rhaegal can bond with. But Daenerys has a point, we can't abandon the dragons. After a hundred and fifty years of dragons' extinction, they come back. And wild dragons are more dangerous than tamed dragons.

I turned to Ser Jorah, "Take us to the House of the Undying."

"As you wish," Ser Jorah said, yet concern was written on his face.

I hope this was not a mistake.

Then again, Visenya stated I needed to meet the Undying to know what is to come.

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**What do you think Alysanne will see at the House of the Undying?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	16. Chapter 16: The House of the Undying

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones TV series and the Clash of Kings for Alysanne's visions. I only selected a few, not all of them.**_

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**Chapter 16: The House of the Undying**

_Ser Jorah's POV_

The Exiled Knight took the Dragon Sisters, Kovarro and Aggo to the House of the Undying. Outside the city, where a lone building stood out from everything else. It was a large tower without any visible openings and surrounded by trees. Jorah realizes the trees were the kind used to create Shade of the Evening. He recalls drinking that type of wine once, regretted thinking the taste was similar to ink. He had a bad feeling about this place, the past year filled with unwelcome magic. Now they were in a magical location where the warlocks want Daenerys.

The reason why is unsure, assuming it had to do with the Khaleesi revive the dragons from stone.

"_A house of ghosts. It is known,"_ Kovarro said.

"_It is known,"_ Aggo agreed.

They soon reached up to the tower as they noticed something was off. There were no guards. No one was here, Not even the sound of the birds. Only silence. The exception being the wind blowing through the trees. Both Dothraki warriors drew their arakh, taught if there is silence there means trouble.

"_Where are the guards?"_ Kovarro asked.

"_No guards. The warlocks kill with sorcery, not steel_," Jorah answered.

"_Let them try,"_ Daenerys challenged.

"Don't jinx us," Alysanne sighed.

They walked up the steps into the first layer. When a change in lighting happened, outside was morning, yet pass the walls was midday. Let alone, they found no door at the entrance.

"Is this a riddle?" Daenerys asked.

"It's probably on the other side," Alysanne said. "Split up."

Daenerys nodded going left with Aggo while Alysanne went right as Ser Jorah followed. Kovarro stood at the entrance keeping guard. Jorah tried to keep up with Alysanne, as the dragoness was walking fast. He tried to catch up, making sure his Queen was in sight. But quickly she walked, the father she went. The glint of her golden filigree armor and partial seeing her Silver-gold head.

However, when he reached the other side of the tower stood a confused Aggo. Neither Daenerys or Alysanne were there.

"_Where is Khaleesi?"_ Aggo asked.

Jorah scowled, telling Aggo to look, as both men run around until coming across Kovarro. The recent Ko, turned to look at them.

"_Did you see Khaleesi?"_ Aggo asked his comrade.

Kovarro shook his head.

"_What about Alysanne_?" Jorah asked.

"_None showed,"_ Kovarro answered.

All three men eyes widen since in their search they found no door. They looked up at the tower.

"Alysanne!" Jorah yelled. "Khaleesi!"

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I don't know what just happened. One minute I was walking outside the House of the Undying until spotting Daenerys. The moment I reached her, it was like something grabbed us by the arm and yanked us inside before we could even respond. Now we were in some dark chamber with a single torch. We could faintly here Ser Jorah, Kovarro, and Aggo calling for us.

Daenerys grabbed the torch, "Are you trying to frighten us with magic tricks? You want me? Here I am. Are you afraid of a little girl?"

"Danny, don't taunt them," I warned.

Suddenly we heard screeching. Dragon screeching, we started to investigate as we climbed the steps of the dark corridors. When we reached, the next level stood Pyat Pree.

"Where are our dragons?" Daenerys demanded.

"They are here, but you must find them and yourselves," Pyat Pree replied. "But first…"

Suddenly we were pinned to the wall by other warlocks. We struggle against their hold, as I tried to use defensive moves that I learned. However, there were too many of them. One warlock grabbed me by the throat, forcing my head up and poured a chalice of blue substance down my throat. It tasted disgusting comparing it to rotten meat. Before I could spit it out, the warlock covered his hand over my mouth and pinched my nose. Suffocating me until I swallow. Unable to hold my breath for very long, I swallowed.

The warlocks pulled back, as I gasped for air. I drew my sword attacking them, but they vanished. I turned to face Daenerys; however, she too was gone.

"Danny!" I called out. "Daenerys!"

No response. Fearing what those warlocks have done to my sister, I blindly search through the passageways in search for her. All around it was dark and cold. My head going obscure from the substance the warlocks gave me. Body becoming slightly numb and breathing a bit of labor. That was when I started to hear voices. They were indistinctive, crisp voices in a different language. A language that was no common tongue, Dothraki, or Valyrian. Feeling the walls, I tried to follow the voices until coming to a door. A sound of groans and moans were heard. Assuming it was my sister being sexually assaulted, I barged in.

Instead, I faced a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands. Each wearing some sort of accessory of other animals, as one had antlers, another a wolf's tale, the third strange tentacles, while the last had a tail of a lion. The one with the lion's tail was thrusting his member between the woman's thighs. The one with the antlers savaged her breast, taunting at the nipples with his red mouth, gnawing and chewing. While the wolf and tentacle man teased her body. The woman moaned, cried and groan. Unable to handle this, I rushed over to stop these men except they vanished. All who was left was the woman. She stared at me with empty eyes until breaking apart in nine pieces then turned to ash.

I stumbled back, not sure about what I just saw. As the room's light drew dim until there is nothing but darkness. Shaking my head, I felt my way out to the passageway. I stumbled, tripping over something. When I sat up, I saw some sort of creature. It appeared human, with bruising flesh, long nails, and the white of its eyes blue as well. A near decaying corpse. It reached out whispering my name.

"Alysanne," it whispered.

I stood up and ran horrified in what I just saw. I found another door and entered, slamming the door shut. Leaning back, I turned around and saw red. All around was a bloodbath, a feast of corpses. All savagely slaughtered, the disasters lay slew across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, sprawl in pools of blood. Some men shot with arrows, others being stabbed by men in grey clothes and ugly faces. Up ahead down the aisle on the Lord's table where a man withers and old, grinning at the slaughter. On the ground, laid a pregnant woman, her hand resting on her swollen belly where blood seeped. A man kneels before her, his head was that of a wolf. He took hold of the woman's hand. A woman with auburn hair grabbed another woman placing a knife to her throat.

"Let it end!" the woman yelled. "Please. He is my son. My first son. Let him go, and I swear that we will forget this. I swear it by the old gods and new. We will take no vengeance."

"You already swore me one oath right here in my castle. You swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!" the elderly man yelled.

"Take me for a hostage, but let Robb go." The woman pleaded, then to the wolf. "Robb. Get up and walk out. Please! Please!"

The wolf did not response holding the dead pregnant woman.

"And why would I let him do that?" the old man asked.

The woman adjusted holding the young maiden hostage knife pressed deeper, "On my honor as a Tully, on my honor as a Stark, let him go, or I will cut your wife's throat."

"I'll find another," the elderly man said taking a sip of his wine.

The wolf stood up, "Mother."

A flayed man came over taking a golden knife and stabbed the wolf in the chest. Leaning into the man's ear, "The Lannisters send their regards."

The flayed man left, leaving the wolf to fall on his knees then to the side dead. The woman with auburn hair wailed, slicing the young wife's throat. Blood splattered everywhere, as the corpse fell. The auburn woman stood catatonic until one man in grey came over and slit her throat as well. The elderly man laughed, cutting his fork into a pie of eyes and fingers, slowly turning into a rat while the men in grey toasted in wine until convulsing and vomited to death.

Disturbed by what I saw, I left the room. I don't think I can unsee in what I had just witnessed. A massacre of anthropomorphic and disembody apparition. Blindly in the dark, I continue my search. Still hearing the creatures whispering my name. I found another door, looking over my shoulder where the creature appeared. Terrified, I entered out of impulse only to appear in the Red Keep. It was one of the royal apartments. A woman laid in bed nursing her baby with white hair. At first, she was no one until my eyes adjusted in seeing her traits. She was a frail woman, with an olive complexion, long black hair, and deep brown eyes. She was familiar until it registers to me when seeing jewelry of gold and rubies…my sister-in-law, Elia Martell.

"Elia," I called out.

Her head shot up as if she heard me then glanced to the door where a tall, handsome man entered. He held some resemblance to Viserys, but taller and more muscles. His hair silver-blond, and eyes his eyes a deep purple…indigo eyes. His name slipped from my lips, "Rhaegar."

"Aegon," Rhaegar murmured, gently stroking his son's back. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" Elia asked.

"He has a song," Rhaegar replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and he is the song of ice and fire."

I stood there watching Rhaegar and Elia talk, awing at their son, Aegon. My eyes watered, recalling a small memory of them together. Remembering seeing Aegon in his crib asleep with Rhaenys.

"There must be one more," he said, as he turned his head facing me. As if he knew I was there. "The dragon has three heads."

Elia was about to say something, her expression showing slight distress. However, he got up and went to the window seat, picked up a silver harp, and ran his fingers lightly over the strings. Sweet sadness engrossed the room as Rhaegar, Elia, and Aegon faded away, only the music remained. I placed a hand over my mouth, closing my eyes trying not to shed tears. Knowing the people in this room suffer a cruel death. Rhaegar being crushed to death by Robert Baratheon's war hammer at the Tridents. Aegon…beaten to death before his first birthday. And Elia…Elia witness the death of her children, beaten, raped, and cut in half by the Mountain. A knight who serves Tywin Lannister. The worse being that Rhaegar was the one who anointed Ser Gregor Clegane.

Unable to handle this room, I crack the door open a bit then stopped as a gust of cold air bursting through. I shuddered, opening the door to discover I was no longer in the House of the Undying, but a frozen wasteland of rock and snow. Just as I turned to go back inside, the door vanished. Is this…the North?

"Hello!" I called out. "Is there anybody here?"

Trenching through the snow, I wrapped my arms around myself regretting the attire I selected. It wasn't like I intended for winter. Qarth was hot, and this is a complete opposite. In the search for shelter, I noticed the ground uneven. Many bumps and hills covered in snow while roots that resembled limbs stuck out. A blizzard transpired making it difficult to see. All I saw was white. All around there was nothing but white. It wasn't until I came to a stone center of the field written in some sort of rune. A spiral? I examined it further when the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow caught my attention.

I looked up and saw a man…one who wasn't human. A tall man wearing black armor laced in icicles. His skin chiseled and carved near to his bone of white, blues and greys. His head was bald, as a crown of horns protrudes from his scalp in shape of a crown. What stood out the most was his eyes…vibrant blue eyes as if ice had a shade. The man stood there staring at me, analyzing me. I was petrified, as if staring at a corpse once more, except he wasn't human. A creature nannies would tell to scare misbehaving children.

The creature looked over its shoulder, before staring at me and spread out his arms. Nothing happened until the piles of snow and hills shifted. Bursting from the earth were many bodies in different stages of decay wearing clothes of fur. Some having rotten limbs while others were practically skeletons. An army of dead people, as all portray one common feature…icy blue eyes. I gasped in horror, then glance at the creature as it reached out.

I crawled backward trying to make a distance between us. Just as its long talon nails came into contact, a slash of a silver sword stopped him. I stared up, as a man dressed in black, from his cloak down to his boots stood between the creature and me. In his hand was a sword, where the pommel took shape of a white wolf with red eyes. Next to him was a giant white wolf with red eyes just like the sword. It growls at the creature.

"Run," the man said in a heavy Northern accent.

Just as I was about to stand the dead charged tackling us down. Instantly I felt like I was falling, falling down a deep dark abyss until colliding onto a stone. A cry of pain escaped, as my head and back throbbed in agony. Turning to my side, I groan, back in the darkness.

.**o0o**.

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys tried to find Alysanne and the dragons. When the Warlocks vanished with the same face, so did Alysanne. She walked through the corridors and passageways calling for her sister. The dragons screeching caught her attention leading to a door. Inside was a stone circular tabled filled the room. All around were many doors. She walked around listening closely until choosing the one of the loudest. Cautiously, Daenerys opened the door and entered.

Inside, she found herself in a Great Hall covered in snow. The ceiling crumbled, exposure raptors, as it snowed. What surprised her the most, was seeing the Iron Throne in front of a Seven-Pointed Star. She stepped down from the gallery, onto the floor in awe and confusion. This was her home. This was the Red Keep. However, she was confused in its condition. Why is the Throne Room destroyed…was there a battle? Did Robert Baratheon destroy the Red Keep and build a new one? So many thoughts were running through her head.

The Iron Throne came into view. In a trance, she walked over to the chair forged by Balerion the Dread. Made out of the swords her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror defeated in battle. The temptation to sit on it, as she was the second in line to the Iron Throne. She reached out to touch it but stopped herself. Knowing it was not hers, it would never be hers.

A soft cooed caught her attention. Walking away from the Iron Throne to the other side of the room where an iron door lifted to the ceiling into a land of snow. She walked further and turned around seeing a seven-hundred-foot wall. Based on her education, she was at the Wall in the North. Not a moment later she noticed a light across the blizzard. Curious, she walked over to see what that light was. There she saw a Dothraki tent. Daenerys found this strange since no Dothraki ever crossed the Narrow Sea or experience winter. Opening the flap, she went inside to see Khal Drogo holding a baby who is about three months old. Around the time she lost Rhaego. The baby having fair skin, brown hair and violet eyes. No signs of deformity from the curse.

"_Moon of my life_," Drogo greeted.

"_This is dark magic, like the magic that took you from me,"_ Daenerys mumbled. "_Took you from me before I could even…Maybe I am dead, and I just don't know it yet. Maybe I am with you in the Night Lands. _

The Warlock did pour a blue substance down her throat. Pyat Pree could've poisoned her. Explains why Alysanne was missing. Why the corridors were empty, the chambers, everywhere not a living soul except for Drogo and Rhaego sitting before her.

"_Or maybe I refused to enter the Night Lands without you Maybe I told the Great Stallion to go fuck himself and came back here to wait for you…"_ Drogo suggested.

Daenerys couldn't help but smile as her eyes watered, "_That sounds like something you would do."_

She glanced at Rhaego. Drogo took her hand and gestured her to sit down next to him. She complied, leaning over taking her son's hand.

"_Or maybe it is a dream. Your dream, my dream…I do not know. These are questions for wise men with skinny arms_." Drogo murmured, gazing into her eyes with love. "_You are the moon of my life. That is all I know…and all I need to know."_ Drogo cradle her chin pressing forehead against hers. "_And if this is a dream…I will kill the man who tries to wake me."_

Daenerys smiled, cherishing this moment. His words of a dream, one she sometimes has of having her family in Westeros. But when he mentioned about killing anyone who wakes him, the guilt consumed her. Since she is the one who killed him. She stared at Rhaego, seeing him perfect. Minding his own business yet in awe at his parents. Here was her chance to be happy to be with her boys. Daenerys sighed, making a promise to be with her sister. After what Alysanne has done for her, she has to pay her back. The Mother of Dragons pecked Drogo on the lips, then closed her eyes.

"_Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east until the rivers run dry and the mountains blow in the winds like leaves."_ She cried and turned to Rhaego leaning down to peck his forehead.

Drogo looked down sad falling into the witch's trance. That is when Daenerys knew this was a trick. So, standing up, she walked away not looking back. Stepping out of the tent, back to the Throne Room, and back into the chamber. On the stone table were the dragons. She rushed over finding all three shackles around their necks.

"They miss their mother," Pyat Pree announced.

Daenerys swung around seeing the warlock.

"They want to be with you," he murmured.

"Do you want to be with them?" another warlock announced, behind her.

"You will be," Pyat Pree said.

"When your dragons were born, our magic was born again," the second warlock added, as both walked around her.

"It is strongest in their presence," Pyat Pree said.

"And they are strongest in yours," the second warlock.

A third appeared, "You will be with them, through winter, summer, winter again. Across a thousand, thousands season you will be with them."

A click caught her attention as she lifted her hands finding shackles. Pyat and the second Warlock pulled the restraints securing her in place.

"And we will be with you until time comes to an end," Pyat said. "Welcome home, Daenerys Stormborn."

"This is not my home," Daenerys said. "My home is across the sea with my sister."

"She will be waiting for a long time." Pyat Pree murmured. "But first, let me introduce you to the Undying ones."

"Undying ones?" Daenerys murmured.

Figures appeared around them, no more than blue shadow corpses with a flaming blue heart. Their flesh was ripe-violet-blue, their lips and nails blue, so dark they were almost black. Their whispers became a swirling song until hands caressing her body. Daenerys gasped, feeling all her energy was vanishing.

She took a deep breath with much of her energy and screamed, "Alysanne!"

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

"Alysanne!"

I shot up hearing a scream. No longer was I in the darkness. I found myself in a passageway where a torch was giving light. Pain throbbed in the back of my head and the vile taste in my mouth. Comprehending that the scream was Daenerys, I stood up ignoring the protest in my body and took the torch in search for my sister.

The once silent tower was filled with singing. It wasn't long when I entered a chamber to see Daenerys chained with the dragons. It only made it worse to see these bruised corpses molesting my sister and Pyat Pree standing there as if it was a brothel.

"Get your filthy hands off my sister!" I yelled, tossing the torch on the creatures who crawled on the ground and drew my sword. I saw red, as I attack, using the recently acquired skills to slice the creatures. The moment my sword made contact to their skin it burned their skin slicing right through with ease. I spun decapitating another one and stabbed the next in the back. Everything happened so fast that the undying either vanished or laid dead on the ground turning into dust. Twisting on my ankle, I aimed the sword at Pyat Pree since he is the last one left.

"Did you find what you were searching, Dragoness of the West?" the warlock asked.

"I have, and other things I wish to forget," I answered with a sneer. "The game is over, release my sister and the dragons at once. Or else."

"The dragons and your sister have brought magic to the world, she shall stay for all eternity," he said.

I scowled at him, "The dragon must have three heads."

"And there are only two. Go Alysanne, you have learned what is to come. The Mother of Dragons will remain safe here, forever."

"You know nothing about us Targaryens?" I asked.

"That magic of old Valyria runs in your veins," he answered.

I shook my head, "We take what we want with Fire and Blood."

I swung my sword and broke the shackles that restrained the dragons. All three jumped on me, facing the warlock snarling at him. Pyat Pree tilted his head confused, as I stood calm saying the ancient words of the dragon riders.

"_Dracarys_," I sang.

Not a second later, all three dragons breathed fire onto the warlock. Viserion's flame got him in the arm, Drogon in the chest, and Rhaegal in the leg. Pyat Pree tried to extinguish it but failed miserably. Wasn't long as the warlock screamed, all three dragons blew fire similarity, as the flames consumed him instantly. Once more, as I stated before dragon fire is the second deadliest fire in the world compare to lava. It wasn't long, as the warlock fell to the ground as a chard corpse.

"Never mess with the Dragon Sisters," I murmured.

The chains disappeared as Daenerys collapsed to her knees. I rushed over to see her condition finding nice bruises forming where the Undying ones touched her, she panted and hugged me as I hugged her back.

"Let this be our last encounter with magic," I told her.

"Agreed," She replied, standing up, we made our way out of the tower. It was like the moment Pyat Pree was killed, the opening to main entrance of the chamber did we come outside. There we found Kovarro, Aggo, and Jorah trying to figure out a way to enter the House of the Undying. It was night evening. As the stars filled the sky.

"_Khaleesi_!" Aggo called out, spotting us.

All three men rushed over to us. I sighed leaning against the wall feeling the pain from the fall and emotionally exhausted. What happened in there is something I do not want to witness again. As much as I loved the chance to see Rhaegar and Elia again in that…memory…the rest, those visions were completely opposite. The woman being fucked by four men, the bloody massacre with the rat, flayed man, and wolf, and the frozen creature who resurrected the dead.

Another thing was the man in black. No doubt he was a member of the Night's Watch if these visions are real, along with his sword and direwolf. Visenya mentioned of a white wolf who speaks the truth. If only I had the opportunity to see his face.

"Alysanne?" Jorah spoke breaking my train of thought.

"Huh?" I replied.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I might have a slight concussion," I answered.

"What happened in there?" Jorah asked.

"The past and a possible future," I answered. "And several dead warlocks."

"Alysanne killed them, the Undying Ones and Pyat Pree," Daenerys added.

Ser Jorah raised a brow till glancing at the purple blood on the blade.

"The dragons killed Pyat Pree, I gave the command," I corrected. "There is one more person I want to see before we leave."

"And who is that?" Ser Jorah asked.

"The King of Qarth," I answered.

**.o0o.**

We returned to Xaro Xhoan Daxos palace. The guards saw the dragons and did not challenge us. A simple get in, as we went to free the Khalasar. The Dothraki Warriors taking the guards and forcing them in a chamber, locking them inside. The servants were smart enough to remain in the servants' quarters where three men kept watch.

Now it was time to officially give Xaro my decision on that marriage proposal. Entering his apartment, into his bedchambers we found him in bed naked with Doreah. Seems there were more liars in Qarth than it seems. Quietly in Dothraki, I told Kovarro to collect the medallion. The young rider obliged, taking his arakh and flicked the medallion off his chest.

This snapped Xaro awake, "What the…"

Doreah sat up covering herself with the golden sheets. Her eyes widen in shock, staring at Daenerys who was holding Drogon and Rhaegal in her arms. Xaro stared at me, seeing Viserion on my shoulder growling at him. Traitors, people who promised to never hurt us and yet they took the most valuable treasure from us, lock them in a tower and put Daenerys and me through a living nightmare.

"Khaleesi, please," Doreah begged her mistress. "He said you'd never leave Qarth alive."

"Silence," I said in a monotone voice. "Come."

As Daenerys and I turned leading the way to the vault. Once there, the two lovers were in their night attire while tied up. Taking the medallion, I put it in the keyhole, and turn the dial. A loud click could be heard as the mechanics of a vault unlatched. Stepping back, Kovarro and Jorah opened the steal revealing Xaro's fortune. I held a torch in hand and went inside to discover the vault was empty. Another act of deception. Marriage means nothing. Gold means nothing. One cannot win wars with gold, especially what is to come to Westeros.

I see it now. I have to make my armies the honorable way, not bribery. I turned around facing Xaro with a smile, "Thank you, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Thank you for teaching me this lesson."

I stepped out, as Daenerys said in Dothraki to put them inside.

Malakko and Aggo grabbed hold of Xaro and Doreah forcing them inside the vault.

"I am king of Qarth. I can help you now, truly help you," Xaro offered. "We can take the Iron Throne."

"There is no King," I murmured. "Only the Thirteen. And when I inform the Pureborns of your crimes against the city, they shall reinstate the new Thirteen. Once more Qarth will be the greatest city that ever was or ever will be."

"I'll bring you a thousand ships," Xaro offered. "All that you have dreamed is within your reach!"

"I cannot not marry a man who gets my name wrong," I said. Xaro was confused. "I'm Queen Alysanne of House Targaryen. Second of the name, not the first."

"Please, Khaleesi, I beg you," Doreah pleaded to Daenerys. "I beg you, please!"

My sister stood there with a neutral face, watching last living handmaiden be put in the vault. Xaro and Doreah continued to beg, as Jorah took hold of the door and shut it. He turned the key and handed it to me.

"What now?" Daenerys asked.

"Remember what Kovarro suggest at the party," I answered.

Daenerys grinned as she told her Khalasar to start sacking the palace. Kovarro became excited giving a Dothraki scream as he and the others ran to start collecting valuables to sell and trade. Daenerys and I chuckled, seeing their excitement and started walking through the halls. Xaro could have a bank, but he learned that investing things holds its value. The gold, silk, and gems in the palace, and the property that surrounds it. Yes, he started from nothing and became rich that I give him credit. But when you kill one of our own and take our dragons, we will retaliate in fire and black. We were generous enough to let him die a slow death…if I decide not to report to the Pureborns of Qarth.

"It's all a lie," Ser Jorah said.

"Looks real enough to me," I replied, grabbing a solid gold display bowl dumping the fruit onto the ground, and handed it to him. "Real enough to buy a ship?

Jorah smiled, accepting the bowl. "Aye, a small ship."

"We start small and make our way up." I murmured.

"Where do you wish to go, Alysanne?" Jorah asked.

"To the Land of the Harpies," I answered.

Ser Jorah nodded, as he turned to the Dothraki shouting, "_Take all the gold and jewels_."

Everyone cheered. I smiled, walking away with Viserion on my shoulder leaving the room. When I arrived at my apartment, I closed the door and slumped into the ground taking a deep breath. My heart was racing, body becoming cold, and sweat soaking my hands. The House of the Undying should be the House of Nightmares. All those visions…those creatures…the fate of Westeros if I don't do something about it.

The walk from the House of the Undying let me comprehend some of the visions. The woman being fucked by the four men was the war between the Baratheons, Starks, and Lannisters with another House joining the war for the title as king. There will be a bloodbath, one Westeros will never forget. But the last vision…the one with the man of ice resurrecting the dead, he is the one I'm concern about. He is the one Visenya warned. The enemy in the Great War.

Now I need to learn how to rule before I can return home to help Westeros.

In the Land of the Harpies.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	17. Chapter 17: Sailing the Summer Seas

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 17: Sailing the Summer Sea**

The following weeks has been chaotic. I had the opportunity to talk with the Pureborns of Qarth the next morning after the events of the House of the Undying. They were shocked that Xaro Xhoan Daxos betrayed his members so he could be King when Qarth no longer has a monarch ruler. It was a solid decision that Xaro shall be executed for the death of the Eleven Merchant Kings of the Thirteen. All I asked, is that the servants and guards be paid from Xaros accounts, knowing they will have to find work. Even observe them being paid in sacks of gold, so I know I did not rob from them. The Pureborns was even generous that they allow the Khalasar to keep the sacking and one of Xaro's ship. When I asked what will happen to Qarth now, the Pureborns assured a new Thirteen will be established. Merchants who earned their trade.

I sighed, pleased Qarth won't be burned to the ground without government. Impressed I was that a city can be run without a ruler, it doesn't change Westeros. The traditions of a monarchy to be the leader. Without a leader, it is never-ending wars. That is why Aegon the Conqueror invaded Westeros. Not only to be the one king to rule them all. But to put an end to the countless wars when men who hold castles and holdfast can declare themselves as kings. I will take my experiences around Essos to bring to Westeros. Adopt a new government so there will be order in the Seven Kingdoms.

Out of habit, I asked the Pureborns if they would invest in my campaign to retake the Iron Throne. Just like the Merchant Kings, they declined, stating Qarth needs their attention. Although they gave their donation. Remembering the lesson Xaro gave me, I need to take my time and build from the ground up with my armies. One of the Pureborns recommended going to Astapor if I wanted to gain an army of trained soldiers. These soldiers who go by the name Unsullied. When I asked if these Unsullied were like the Golden Company, they were hesitant by saying no. The Unsullied were eunuch slave soldiers. They ended the conversation from there, wishing me luck.

_Eunuch slave soldiers_, I thought somewhat disturbed.

The entire day I thought what these men went through in their lives as slaves. The traumatizing experience of being cut. Back in Westeros, the Maesters and Faith take a sacred vow of celibacy. The only time a person would be castrated in the Seven Kingdoms is if they raped and refused to accept the Black. But the Unsullied were slaves, they did no wrong other than being born. Eunuchs by force. If Viserys had heard of them, he would've been happy to sell Daenerys to the richest man to purchase the Unsullied. West of Essos is the Golden Company, and East of Essos is the Unsullied. Which sounds better, men you have to keep paying for their service or men once purchased are forever yours? It goes against Westerosi values and our ancestors' values of Old Valyria.

Things only got stressful when the nightmares occur. Every night, the visions from the House of the Undying plagued me. Mainly the massacre, the Undying Ones, and the ice creature. The vision repeating over and over again. It was driving me crazy. Waking up in near scream covered in sweat. Why? Why the hell did Visenya want me to see that?

When I talked to Daenerys, she told me what happens in the House of the Undying. Saying she was taken to the Red Keep, standing before the Iron Throne, yet the Throne room was in ruins covered in Snow. The Wall was there, as the large open revealing a Dothraki tent where Khal Drogo and Rhaego were. But she knew it was not her Drogo, the way he spoke seemed off. And when she told the Witch's prophecy, Drogo shut down.

Daenerys asked me what I saw, and I couldn't tell her. It was too disturbing, some I don't want to repeat again. So, I gave her short version of the current war in Westeros, and massacre, a man of ice, and seeing Rhaegar and Elia again. Daenerys wished she could see Rhaegar, and not be tricked.

I sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine in my room. It won't be long before sailing off to Astapor. One of the Slaver Cities in the Ghiscari region. A conquered province by the Valyrian Freehold long ago before the Doom of Valyria. Their remaining colonies were on the cost called Slaver's Bay, of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen rose into power. Calling themselves "Masters" and continue the practice of slavery. They are the ones that keep the majority of Essos profit in human trafficking. If it weren't for them, counties like Volantis, Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh wouldn't participate in this horrendous act. Remembering from studies, they worship their own gods called Ghis, as one goddess takes the form of a Harpy.

The thought of a region taking pleasure in slavery disgust me. As I mentioned before, I condoned such a practice. Everyone has a choice in life, and should not be enslaved unless it was the dungeons. Now that the Pureborns mentioned the Unsullied, do I want to purchase these men or not? Eunuchs who can fight, unable to rape and submit to obedience. The perfect army…however, it will make me no better than Viserys.

A knock on the door snapped me of my train of thought, "Who is it?"

"It's Ser Jorah," he replied.

"Enter," I said.

Ser Jorah entered the room with a tray of food, "You were not at supper, Daenerys asked me to bring you food."

"Much appreciated," I said. "Place it on the table."

The Exiled Knight did just that and came over taking a seat next to me. He noticed the half-empty pitcher of wine. He raised a brow since I hardly drink unless it was necessary since the poisoning incident. Lately, wine is removing the foul taste of Shade of the Evening from my mouth. If not, suppressing some of the memories from the House of the Undying.

"You've been distant, Alysanne," Ser Jorah announced.

"Have I?" I asked.

Ser Jorah nodded, "Your sister is concern. She told me your experience with the Undying Ones was different."

"I saw things I wish to unsee," I confessed.

"Shade of the Evening can do that," he agreed.

"You've tried it?" I asked.

"Tasted like ink, saw strange things until falling into a river," he answered. "Thought I saw a unicorn."

I chuckled shaking my head then sighed, "Add magic, and it was a nightmare."

"How so?"

"You'll think I'm mad if I told you. Like my father."

"You are not your father, Alysanne."

"Ser Willem told me my Father was sane when he became king. Later on, he grew mad, it wasn't until Duskendale did he became the Mad King. What if I'm going through that as we speak since leaving Vaes Dothrak?"

"The far east we go, the stranger the world is. Once we head west, we will see."

"The only magic has done for us, is bringing the dragons back."

Ser Jorah nodded as he glanced at the cage were Viserion was sleeping. Knowing I need to get his off my chest before eating me alive. I sighed, telling him what I saw in the House of the Undying. His expression told me he was shocked about the massacre, the woman being fucked by four tiny men with animal features, the man of ice raising the dead, and seeing my brother Rhaegar and his wife, Elia. What caught him off guard was mentioning a man dressed in black with a giant wolf and a sword with a white pommel with red eyes.

"Did you see the man's face?" Jorah asked.

"No, his back was turned to me. Why do you ask?" I replied.

"My father is a member of the Night's Watch; the vision could be of him based on the description of the sword. Longclaw, House Mormont's Valyrian sword, the pommel of a bear with red eyes. Although, many jokes saying it looks like a wolf." Jorah answered.

"Do you believe in visions and prophecies?" I asked.

"After watching you and your sister not being harm by fire and the dragons…I don't know what to believe," Jorah answered.

I nodded then sighed taking another sip of wine. Changing the subject, "I never got a chance to thank you for what you did."

Ser Jorah looked at me confused to be more detail.

"For finding us a ship earlier, saving Daenerys and me from Pyat Pree," I explained.

"I swore to protect you," he said. "But I didn't think the warlocks would take you into the House of the Undying."

"Your training helped me," I assure him. "If it didn't, Dany would've been trapped along with the dragons."

I leaned over and peck his cheek. That surprised him, which I gave a small smile.

"I know you have feelings for me, Jorah," I murmured. "I'm flattered, and I care about you. But I need time. It hasn't been a year yet since Viserys death…and…I'm still trying to find myself."

Ser Jorah sighed, taking my hand, "I understand."

"Thank you," I said.

Awkwardness could be detected, but I had to make it known. I do care for Ser Jorah, and I like him over the time spent…but I need time. First Viserys, and now Xaro…I need a moment to think without a man pressuring me into a relationship. I know Ser Jorah won't do that. I just had to make it clear.

"Still doesn't excuse you from training," Ser Jorah said.

Just like that everything went to normal. Over the next several weeks we traded enough for gold, a crew and a trustworthy captain. The Captain recommended, sadly left the day we enter the House of the Undying. Ser Jorah said her name is Sarella Sands, a Dornish captain who is one of the Sand Snakes. When as I ask him what he meant by that, he explained that the Sand Snakes were the illegitimate daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell. Last he heard, the man has eight daughters and no son. I was baffled that a man could have eight daughters and not a single son. It is a possibility…but a rare one. Also realizing we missed an opportunity to contact Dorne.

I recall Princess Elia mentioning her brother Prince Oberyn. Saying he was a trouble maker before ticking Rhaenys and I. Anything else, I don't remember. Then again, I was three, an age where memory starts to take hold. Along with most of my memories were in the tower.

Anyway, the Khalasar, Daenerys, Ser Jorah, and I were soon prepared for travel as we got on a ship. Our Destination, Astapor. It will be the first time since the Dothraki sailed across the poison water. More specifically sailing across the Summer Sea, into the Gulf of Grief and finally Slaver's Bay. Once we set sailed and were on deck, I was introduced to our captain, explaining the route as we looked at the map. Daenerys placed her hand on Valyria.

"By any chance, can we sail by Valyria?" She asked.

"That is not wise," The captain answered.

"Why not?" Daenerys asked.

"Old Valyria is cursed, dangerous for ships to sail through and plagued with Stonemen," The captain explained. "One touch from a Stoneman, and you shall be infected by grey scale."

"Oh," Daenerys replied.

"I too crave a glance at our ancestral lands, but the risk is too high," I told Daenerys. "When the dragons are big enough to ride, then maybe we shall see."

Daenerys nodded in understanding. Greyscale is one disease no one wants to be infected with. I've seen the infliction from afar. A slave who was doing their job of importing goods, when contracting the disease. His skin turning grey, ask cracks form as if he was turning into stone. His master, out of mercy gave him a good meal before ending his life. The owner stating that death is mercy than living the rest of your days as an animal. Let him die a man, not an animal. It only takes one touch, either it is from the inflicted or an object exposed to it. Maesters tried searching for a cure, but have given up because it takes one touch. There is a rumor that Stannis Baratheon's daughter has been infected with greyscale and been cured or at least prevented the spreading and mental disease. Viserys considerate the gods' revenge in taking Dragonstone.

Either way, when there is no cure, it's best to avoid contact.

**.o0o.**

A few months have passed since sailing across the Summer Sea. Small delays of dead winds, but we managed to stop at an island to restock before sailing up north. During this time of traveling, I continue my training with Ser Jorah in the early hours when the deck is not crowded. Ser Jorah explained, that you never know when you will be attacked by sea. As he fought a few times on a ship during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Understanding that it's best to be prepared for any situation. Especially there is a chance of a battle at sea against the Royal Navy.

When I am not training by swords, I am educating Daenerys on her lessons. We were not able to find a tutor who can educate Daenerys on Westerosi culture and travel. Even with the gold, we have acquired after sacking Xaro's palace. So, I would teach her from memory explaining the full history of House Targaryen. Ser Jorah even joined in and described the politics and events after we went into exile. These lessons seemed to help Daenerys greatly. It is important she knows the expectation Westeros, and I have on her if I were to die. Westeros needs leaders, not tyrants.

Sadly, during the sails, the dragons grew at a rapid pace. They were no longer the size of cats, similar to dogs. At first, we were impressed, as they can fly on their own and hunt at sea. Which helps save the meat for the crew. The only downside was their habit of landing. Well, Viserion's habit of landing. I might have spoiled him too much by having him sit on my shoulder. So, when he feels like landing, he would take nose dive onto me and knock me down by his weight. Almost fell overboard a few times. Daenerys finds this cute, while Aggo, Kovarro, and Malakko laugh at it. Even the Dothraki children find it amusing. The bruises and scrapes say differently. Don't get me wrong, I love Viserion. But if this habit continues, I might end up with a dislocated arm or a broken spine. Even debated if I should end him sleeping on my bed.

Currently, I watched all three dragons flying around the ship. Viserion and Rhaegal were playing, while Drogon was on the hunt. No doubt, the black dragon was by far the biggest of the three. Viserion was second largest, while Rhaegal was the smallest of the group. Then again, Drogon eats a lot. As the black dragon dived into the ocean, catching a fish, tossing it in the air to set it on fire, and ate it. He then came over sitting on the rail. Daenerys smiled as she petted his red spine.

"They're growing fast," Ser Jorah noted.

"Not fast enough," Daenerys said. "I can't wait that long."

"They're barely a year old," I reminded. "The more they eat, fly, and rest the bigger they get."

Drogon gave a screech and took off.

I know what she is thinking. Dragon riding, taking the same method our ancestors did during Aegon's Conquest. The dragons were the primary weapons during the war. The Field of Fire set an example of the power of the dragons. Queen Rhaenys used Meraxes with Orys Baratheon on a hill defeating half of King Argilac's men. Right now, the dragons are adjusting and growing. They can inflict damage, but they are still considered toddlers.

"We need an army," I sighed, crossing my arms and leaned against the rail.

"We'll be in Astapor in a week," Ser Jorah assured. "Some say the Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world."

"The greatest slave-soldiers in the world," I corrected. "The distinction means a good deal to some people."

"Do those people have any better ideas about how to put you on the Iron Throne?" Jorah asked,

Ser Jorah insists we get the Unsullied for our armies. Although it somewhat contradicts his philosophy that our armies should be Westerosi, we need to start off with an army to earn the Lords of Westeros trust. Or at least our distant cousins. Once we figure out a way to contact Prince Doran without Varys spies intercepting. Who knows, maybe Sarella Sand is sailing to Dorne as we speak. Either way, I do not approve of slavery. The only people who should be in chains are prisoners, those who committed crimes and are awaiting judgment. Not men, women, and children who were forced to be property.

"It's too beautiful a day to argue," Daenerys interrupted breaking the tension.

"You're right," Ser Jorah agreed.

The sound of someone vomiting caught our attention. We looked overseeing one of the Dothraki warrior's seasick. Even after a few months at sea, the Dothraki still haven't adjusted to the environment. Some were not getting their sea legs. Those on deck were hunched over trying to get over the nausea.

"Another lovely day on the high seas," Jorah added.

"Don't mock them," Daenerys scolded calmly. "They're the first Dothraki on a ship. They followed me across the poison water. If they'll do it, others will. And the true khalasar…"

"The Dothraki follow strength above all, Khaleesi," Jorah reminded. "You'll have a true khalasar when you prove yourself strong. And not before."

I sighed, knowing Daenerys truly wants to help in my campaign and go home. Also, have her way of power. But she needs to understand, power is power will not last forever. When Khal Drogo fell off his horse, he lost that power. It cannot be overused, for when it is overused everyone will find that vulnerable moment to strike.

* * *

**I know it's a short and bit of a filler.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	18. Chapter 18: Astapor

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**Languages: **

_Dothraki_

_Valyrian_

Common Tongue

_**Old Ghiscari**_

* * *

**Chapter 18: Astapor**

The ship had reached Astapor, one of the three slave cities in Slaver's Bay. Also known as the Red City. Watching from the bay at the early hours of dawn seeing the Astapori emblem facing the sea made entirely of gold. The Harpy of Old Ghis. We arrived two days ago, as the Captain and Ser Jorah went ashore to talk to one of the Good Masters. The person in charge of distributing the Unsullied. When Ser Jorah returned, he said a meeting has been arranged and to come the day after tomorrow,

"Alysanne," Daenerys said walking up to me. "Are you sure about this? Buying slaves for our cause?"

"Not really," I replied. "But if I buy them, I have an army who I can treat better than anyone in Essos. I can sack a city, and no woman or child will be rape. At the same time, they will still be view as property. Best thing to do is seeing my options before deciding."

Daenerys nodded.

"I have a plan, and I need your help with it," I said.

"Of course, anything," she said.

"Astapor speaks in low Valyrian," I started. "It's a good thing our family learns both Common Tongue and Valyrian at the same time. I want the Masters to believe they have the advantage over us. Two Westerosi women in unknown territory. So only speak in common tongue. Even if they say crude and insulting remarks, act like any traveler and be naïve."

Ser Willem had a tutor to teach High and Low Valyrian. All of Valyrian language in general. Our surrogated father did so much for our family. Educating us to succeed, even though we didn't get much because the Stranger took Ser Willem. He tried teaching Viserys how to be a ruler, but that didn't stick.

"Why? We are Targaryens, we should be treated as Queens?" she asked.

"I'm the Exiled Queen, and you are a Khaleesi of a small Khalasar," I answered. "We may be strong, but the world sees us weak because we are women. That is our advantage. Trust me. I need you to let me do most of the talking on this. Once I decide, I will give you more details."

"Does Ser Jorah know of your plan?" she asked.

"No, the fewer people know, the better," I answered. "It can lead to Fire and Blood."

"You're scary when you plot plans," she murmured. "I forgot that revenge prank when we were kids."

I chuckled from that memory. One of our host's children did a mean prank on us. With the help of the eldest daughter, I came up with the perfect revenge. Even got away with it.

"Also, I like how confident you've become," she added.

"Thank you," I said with a smile.

I went back below to change into proper attire. I wore a red gown similar to Daenerys blue attire, along with riding trousers and boots. Follow by a black leather bodice with the dragon details. My hair pulled up in a braid. I need to appear strong. Show the people that I am a Targaryen.

Once done, I came out onto deck seeing Ser Jorah wearing his new armor. Back in Qarth, his metal plated armor became too hot since traveling through the Red Waste and in Qarth, so he custom made new armor. One suitable for the desert environment. What made it unique was the pauldrons have engraving that resembled dragons' tail while on the chest plate was a medallion of a bear. Subtle yet unique as the same with the scarab for his sword.

Daenerys wore her blue attire, hair in braids. It will be us three since Aggo and Kovarro were not well after nearly three months out on the sea. If we get what we desire, hopefully, we can travel by land instead of sailing to Pentos.

"Where to?" I asked Ser Jorah.

"To the Plaza of Pride," he answered leading the way.

.**o0o**.

When we got to Astapor, we met a man and woman at the Plaza of Pride. The open market where the Good Masters, allow their customers to view their purchases. In the center of the Plaza stands a red brick fountain with a golden plated harpy standing twenty feet tall. The man was tan, having a bald head with a trimmed beard dressed in white, green and yellow. Next to him was a young woman with dark skin and dark tightly curled hair as a black leather collar wrapped around her neck.

"Welcome to Astapor, Queen Alysanne, and Princess Daenerys," the young woman said. "May I have the honor of introducing you to my Master, Kraznys mo Nakloz. One of the Good Masters of Astapor."

"Thank you," I said. "We appreciate your time to show us your trade."

The woman translated in low Valyrian to Kraznys. He smiled, his brown eyes analyzing me though linger at my breast. I smiled back, holding my disgust in what this man was doing. Once the introductions were out of the way, Kraznys escorting us out of the Plaza of Pride to see where a sample of the Unsullied was kept.

Kraznys lead the way talking about the Unsullied as he had sixty-five men stay out in the open all day and night to give an example. The young slave woman spoke, "The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night with no food or water."

Kraznys continued his explanation as he led us to one of the terraces where the Unsullied stood. All in light black leather armor holding spears and shields. On top of the head were helmets masking the majority of their face except for the eyes.

"They will stand until they drop." She said, as her master continued. "Such is their obedience."

Without a single word, the Unsullied did a half-face, stepping back creating an aisle allowing us to walk through and stand on the platform. They returned to attention and did an about-face, twisting their ankles until addressing us at attention.

"They may suit my needs," I said. "Tell me of their training?"

The slave girl translated, _"The Westerosi woman is pleased with them, but speaks no praise to keep the price down. She wishes to know how they are trained__."_

"_Tell her what she would know and be quick about it. The day is hot._" Kraznys replied.

"They begin their training at five," the translator explained. "Every day they drill from dawn to dusk until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training."

Kraznys who stood next to me spoke as the translator repeated in common tongue. "Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing."

"Even the bravest men fear death," Ser Jorah reminded.

The translator spoke to her master, "_The knight says even brave men fear death."_

Kraznys shrugged, "_Tell the old man he smells of piss."_

"_Truly, Master?"_ the translator asked.

"_No, not truly,"_ he scolded that made the woman flinched_. "Are you a girl or a goat to ask such a thing?"_

He continued his rant, adding insults here and there.

"My master says the Unsullied are not men. Death means nothing to them." The translator said.

"_Tell this ignorant whore of a Westerner to open her eyes and watch."_ He said, stepping down.

"He begs you attend to this carefully, Your Grace," the Translator said.

Kraznys gestured one of the Unsullied over. He moved the man's shield arm and spear arm aside, exposing him. He took the dagger off the Unsullied belt and cut open the straps of his armor. I realized what he was doing and frown.

"Tell the good master that there is no need for a demonstration," I ordered.

"_She's worried about their nipples?"_ Kraznys asked, pinching the flesh together getting enough before cutting the nipple off. "_Does the dumb bitch know we've cut off their balls?"_

Blood seeped from the wound as Kraznys tossed the discarded flesh onto the ground.

"My master points out that men don't need nipples," the translator said.

Kraznys fixed the strap and corrected the Unsullied posture back to attention. Before playfully smacking his arm, "Here, I'm done with you."

"_This one is pleased to have served you,"_ the Unsullied said, then stepped back into his squad.

Kraznys turned around facing us pleased that his Unsullied that he mutilated showed no sign of pain in his eyes or voice. He explained how the Unsullied become the Unsullied.

"To win his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find a newborn and kill it before its mother's eyes. This way, my master says, we make certain there is no weakness left in them." The translator said.

"You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?" Daenerys asked.

"_The Princess is offended. She asks if you pay a silver coin to the __**mother,**__ for her dead baby,_" the translator told her master.

"_What a soft mewling fool this one is,"_ Kraznys murmured and continued.

"My master would like you to know that the silver is paid to the baby's owner, not the mother," the translator explained.

I took a deep breath, "How many do you have to sell?"

The translator told her master in which he lifted eight fingers. "Eight thousand."

"_Tell the Westerosi whore she has until tomorrow_," Kraznys informed.

"Master Kraznys asks that you, please hurry. Many other buyers are interested," the translator said before she and her master left.

I stood there staring at the sixty-five Unsullied men. Comprehending what Kraznys and the translator told us about the Unsullied. There are eight thousand men who are ready for battle. One out of four boys survive this brutal training. By the time they are ready, they must prove themselves by killing a newborn in front of the mother. The mother is not compensated, but the owner. I closed my eyes trying to do the math of the number of lives murdered. Basically, thirty-two thousand children are dead from this horrendous practice, from the eight thousand newborns to the twenty-four thousand boys who died during the training. I did not see the Unsullied as elite killers. No, I saw boys who lost their childhood the moment they turn five. Boys were managed to escape the first ritual of turning another young man into an Unsullied.

I jumped off the platform and walked over to the Unsullied who was mutilated. "_Does it hurt_?"

The soldier remained at attention not saying a word. However, I can see it in his eyes as they were watery, yet not enough to shed a tear. That is all I need to know. The same eyes I once held of being an obedient wife to appease Viserys as he had his way with me.

It's time to remind the Masters of the Valyrian Freehold.

**.o0o.**

We left the Plaza of Pride making way back to the ship. A lot was lingering through my head, as we were all bewildered in the practice the Good Masters have on the Unsullied. How Kraznys simply took a dagger and mutilated a man to make an example. What disgusted me the most is the thirty-two thousand dead children in order to make the eight-thousand Unsullied. And those are the ones in Astapor. This practice has been going for centuries or thousands of years?

"Eight thousand dead babies," Daenerys said baffled from the preview.

We were walking our way back to the docks to return to our ships.

"The Unsullied are a means to an end," Ser Jorah agreed.

"Once I own them, these men…" I started.

"They're not me. Not anymore," Jorah interrupted.

"Once I own an army of slaves, what will I be?" I asked.

"You think these slaves will have better lives serving men like Kraznys or serving you?" Jorah replied.

We stopped observing the dock seeing slaves and fishermen working together to get the latest products out to the market. On the pier was a young girl holding a ball. She smiled waving at us. Daenerys waved back as she stepped down. Jorah and I followed her continuing our conversation about the Unsullied.

"You'll be fair to them. You won't mutilate them to make a point." Jorah said. "You won't order them to murder babies. You'll see they're properly fed and sheltered. A great injustice has been done to them. Closing your eyes will not undo it."

We stopped as Daenerys was playing with the girl. The girl smiled rolling the ball over to her. Daenerys smiled back as she knelt down collecting it. The girl made a gesture to open it. Assuming it was a puzzle, Daenerys did so when all of a sudden, a man in a dark cloak attack, knocking my sister down. Ser Jorah grabbed the man while I rushed to Daenerys but stopped as the ball opened and a creature resembling a jeweled scorpion came out. However, this was not any scorpion. No, it was the most dangerous kind that it has its own name. A manticore, as it held a jade jewel carapace, an arched barbed tail, and an unsettling human-like face on the stinger. One sting is fatal to humans.

"Don't move," I whispered to Daenerys.

She was on the ground eyes widen. Slowly I tried to draw my sword hoping to stab it. However, it gave a hiss scurrying forward towards the attack. Daenerys tried to crawl back. Before it could strike the hooded man, who escaped Jorah hold and stabbed the scorpion with his dagger. Looking up, we stared at the little girl whose appearance chance, no longer looking innocent. As her face grew hollow and teeth turn black while her lips became blue. The hooded man went after the girl who ran away jumping into the water.

I helped Daenerys up, noting the hooded man gazing at the wall. We followed his gaze seeing the girl giving a deviant stare.

"The Warlocks," Daenerys said.

I nodded since we did kill some of the warlocks and the Undying Ones at the House of the Undying. Their attempt at revenge. Should've burned the place to the ground before we left. Sighing, I stared at the man who removed the manticore off his blade carefully with a rag and stomped on it preventing its poison of being od use.

I walked over to the stranger, "Thank you for saving my sister, ser."

"The honor is mine, my queen." The man said in a Westerosi accent removing his hood.

My eyes widen as if staring at a memory. He is an older man, with white hair and lined features. His eyes were a pale blue, almost as if he was sad. Age has gotten to him, but a déjà vu of seeing a long-lost companion eighteen years ago. Ser Jorah was astonished as I was while Daenerys stood there confused.

"You know this man?" Daenerys asked.

Ser Jorah nodded, "I know him as one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen and as the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard."

"King Robert is dead," the man said. "I've been searching for you two, Alysanne Targaryen and Daenerys Stormborn, to ask your forgiveness. I was sworn to protect your family. I failed them." He bends the knee. "I am Barristan Selmy, Kingsguard to your father. Allow me to join your Queensguard, and I will not fail you again."

I stood there in shocked unable to respond. Remembering this man standing by the door keeping watch. The man who was mainly assigned to protect Rhaegar. As he went with my brother to fight alongside him at the Trident. The man who was bound by his service as a brother of the Kingsguard to serve whoever sits on the Iron Throne. As Ser Jorah said, he was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. And yet, Ser Barristan Selmy kneels before me asking for forgiveness and be a member of my Queensguard. I haven't thought about a Queensguard. It has been Daenerys, Khal Drogo, Ser Jorah, and I from the beginning after Viserys death.

"Alysanne," Daenerys said, placing a hand on my shoulder snapping me out of my trance.

"Ser Barristan…" I managed to say.

He looked at me with those blue eyes, as he drew his sword, "I will shield your back, keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

I took a deep breath placing a hand on his shoulder, "I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise, Ser Barristan Selmy."

Ser Barristan stood up sheathing his sword. Overwhelmed, I lead them back to the ship. Daenerys was curious, that she asked Ser Barristan question about King's Landing, about our family. I think the most embarrassing question was when Daenerys said, "What was Alysanne like when she was three?"

"She was a playful child, she and Princess Rhaenys would cause trouble for the septa." Ser Barristan answered. "One time she climbed into a wardrobe somehow locked herself in. The castle was in a panic. Until Rhaegar found her, basically asleep."

"I don't remember that," I said.

"It was a month after your birthday," Ser Barristan said.

"So, is it true, my sister was kept in a tower?" Daenerys asked.

I tensed, as did Ser Barristan. Ser Jorah glanced at him to know the truth.

"King Aerys became paranoid the year your sister was born. In fear that enemies would kill her, he kept her safe in Maegor's Holdfast towers. Rhaegar had to fight tooth and nail for her to go outside." Ser Barristan answered.

Well, that explains why I have a limited memory of King's Landing. Because I was trapped in one room. That is why I don't remember much, only a handful of people and Dragonstone. That is my limited knowledge of being in Westeros. Daenerys nodded as she looked at me surprised. No doubt, she thought Viserys comment of me being locked in a tower was a joke. Sadly, it was true.

"If you'll excuse me, I have some things I need to do," I said.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan spoke.

"Yes, Ser Barristan?" I replied.

"When you have time, I wish to know what has happened over the years?" He asked.

I took a deep breath, "Follow me. I shall tell you what has happened over the years."

I lead Ser Barristan to my cabin where Viserion laid on the bed. The golden dragon lifted its head giving a shriek to the knight. This startled Ser Barristan almost drawing his sword, but I stopped him going to the clay pot pulling out a chunk of meat and tossed it at Viserion. The dragon caught it in his mouth and ate it raw.

"Be nice, or I won't feed you," I scolded Viserion. The dragon raised a brow glaring at the old knight. I sighed, "Forgive Viserion, he is protective."

Ser Barristan nodded, bewilder in seeing a dragon. I lead the knight to the windowsill pouring two glasses of wine. The knight sat down accepting the drink, still staring at Viserion who went back to sleep.

"Marvelous creature, isn't he?" I murmured.

"Yes, but deadly," he replied.

"Indeed," I agreed. "Now, you want to know what happened?"

Ser Barristan nodded.

"After my mother, Queen Rhaella passed away from the complications of childbirth, Ser Willem Darry smuggled Viserys, Daenerys, and I out of Dragonstone to Braavos. For five years we lived there under his protection, in the house of the red door. When he passed away from an illness, the servants kicked us out, and we lived on the streets until a host from a wealthy family took us in. We never stayed in one Host lodging to long, from Myr, Tyrosh, Qohor, Volantis, and Lys. Our last host being Magister Illyrio Mopatis in Pentos."

I told Ser Barristan everything. Those sadden blue eyes widened when I told him when Viserys forced me to marry him, the five years of being abused while protecting Daenerys from his wrath. Probably comparing my experience to that of my parents. Then I told him about Daenerys wedding to the Dothraki warlord, Khal Drogo, from Viserys dying by molten gold, the raids in Lhazar, Drogo's death by the witch, the dragon's resurrection, and the events that transpire in Qarth. Not going over the specifics of magic, for even I don't understand it, then the consequences of pain and death.

After I told him my side of the story, I asked Ser Barristan to tell me what has happened in Westeros. He explained that Robert Baratheon became king; however, he was not able to save the woman he loved, Lyanna Stark. The woman who started a war. Instead, he married Tywin Lannister daughter Cersei. Over the years, the Kingdom fell into a neutral term, as Robert whore and drank his way through the Seven Kingdoms while Lord Jon Arryn took charge as Hand of the King. When Jon Arryn died, so did the new dynasty of chaos. Robert Baratheon being killed by a boar, Joffrey Baratheon demanding Ned Stark's head, and the start of another Nine Penny kings now called the War of the five kings. The same information that Xaro Xhoan Daxos gave me. The worse was that King Joffrey and Queen Regent Cersei Lannister dishonor Ser Barristan by relinquishing him of his position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. No Knight can leave the Kingsguard except for death.

"What can you say about this Joffrey?" I asked.

"That he is a spoil cruel boy," Ser Barristan said. "Tormented his younger siblings, butchering small animals, and other things I dare not say."

I took a deep breath, "And they say my father was mad."

Ser Barristan nodded.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	19. Chapter 19: Valar Morghulis

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

_**Beware of Spoils**_

**Languages:**

_Dothraki_

_Valyrian_

Common Tongue

**_Old Ghiscari_**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Valar Morghulis**

I petted Viserion as Daenerys entered my cabin. She looked at me with the question everyone wants to know. Do I buy the Unsullied or not? They are the many perfect Lords would want. Obedient soldiers who follow orders, and unable to be distracted by their cocks. However, they are slaves. Do I buy their freedom or keep them as slave soldiers?

There was also a slight problem. I had a word with the captain who has knowledge about the slave trade. Apparently, all the gold I have is not enough to buy the entire army. Even with the ship, I will be lucky enough to get two hundred men. Enough for a small siege, but not a conquest. So, I need to talk with Daenerys in what I am about to ask her.

"So, what is your decision?" Daenerys asked.

"It's wrong to buy slaves, goes against our ancestors' values," I started. "And if I do purchase them, I'm buying their freedom, let them have the choice."

Daenerys nodded, as she came over sitting down next to me.

"Our ancestors during the Valyrian Freehold put an end to slavery. Ghiscari brought it back after the Doom of Valyria. Five times did the Ghiscari contend with Valyria, and five times did they go down in defeat. It's time we remind them for the sixth time."

Daenerys smiled appreciating my thoughts and opinion, "What do you have in mind?"

"We don't have the money to buy the entire army, so I'm going to offer them the most valuable thing in the world. A dragon." I said.

"And then?" she asked.

"Well, I need to see what the Unsullied are capable of," I answered.

"And Kraznys?" she asked.

"He'll learn what this Westerosi whore can do," I answered with a serious looked.

I know this is not an honorable way. Not what Westeros will expect and will compare me to King Aerys the Second and our mad ancestors. But after living my life in observing slaves being abused. People who were taken from their homes, travelers, children being sold so their parents could thrive. No. I'm putting my foot down and tell Essos enough is enough. The best way to do that is cutting off the snake's head…and Slavers Bay is that snake.

**.o0o.**

Daenerys, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, and I were making our way to the Plaza of Pride. Getting there is by going through the Walk of Punishment. By the water, stood slaves being crucified while Masters, citizens, and slaves walked by. I held back my scowl in seeing this crime against humanity. The Targaryens never believe in the crucifixion, nor was it used in Westeros. A life who is condemned to die deserves a quick death. Not to suffer or deal with the humiliation.

"The Walk of Punishment is a warning, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.

"To whom?" Daenerys asked.

"To any slave who contemplates doing whatever these slaves did," Ser Barristan answered.

Daenerys stopped seeing one slave at a brick of death, "Give me your water."

Ser Jorah complied handing her his canteen, "Khaleesi, this man has been sentenced to death."

Daenerys ignored his comment, as she climbed up to give the poor man some water. She brought the canteen to his lips, but he mumbled something that surprised her. I crossed my arms, holding back negative thoughts in how I want to repay the Good Masters.

"Leave this place, Your Grace," Ser Barristan advised. "Leave tonight, I beg you."

"And what is she to do for soldiers?" Ser Jorah asked.

"We can find sellswords in Pentos and Myr," Ser Barristan answered.

"Is it "we" already, Ser Barristan?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Enough you too," I scolded.

Seriously, only two days and these men were competitive to be my advisor. There is a thing call a Small Council, where there is more than one people advise the ruler. Although, if this was Ser Jorah being jealous that I accepted Ser Barristan as a knight so easily is not amusing.

"If you want to sit on the throne your ancestors built, you must win it. That means blood on your hands before the thing is done." Ser Jorah said.

"The blood of my enemies, not the blood of innocents," I corrected. "I know war means death."

Daenerys came over returning the canteen back to Ser Jorah. She expressed sorrow. Whatever the slave said to her, rattled her dearly. I start walking as Daenerys walked beside me and the two knights followed from behind.

"How many wars have you fought in, Ser Barristan?" Jorah asked.

"Three," Barristan answered.

"Have you ever seen a war where innocents didn't die by the thousands?" Jorah asked.

Ser Barristan did not answer.

"I was in King's Landing after the sack, Alysanne." Jorah continued. "You know what I saw? Butchery. Babies, children, old men. More women raped than you can count. There's a beast in every man, and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand."

"Yes, Tywin Lannister knew that and murdered Elia and her children by Ser Gregor Clegane," I said bitterly. "The Great Lion Sacked King's Landing, instead of going straight to the Red Keep, he attacked innocents."

Ser Jorah sighed, knowing I had a point, "But the Unsullied are not men. They do not rape. They do not put cities to the sword unless they're ordered. If you buy them, the only men they'll kill are those you want dead."

"Do you disagree, Ser Barristan?" I asked.

"When your brother led his army into battle at the Trident, men died for him because they believed in him, because they loved him, not because they'd been bought at an auction," Barristan answered. "I fought beside the last dragon on that day. I bled beside him."

"Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, and Rhaegar died," Jorah said.

"Did you know him well, Ser Barristan?" Daenerys asked.

"I did, your highness. Finest man I ever met." Barristan answered.

"I wish I had known him." She said. "But he was not the last dragon."

I took a deep breath. Still having the image of Rhaegar sitting by the windowsill with his silver harp playing music. The moments he picked me up in the air and spun me around. His promised that everything will be better once he was king. I remember the prince, yet Viserys remembers the knight. How he fought, the number of people he killed. Overall, Rhaegar was human. Those human needs destroyed a nation.

With nothing else to say, we arrived at the Plaza of Pride.

**.o0o.**

In the private sector in the Plaza of Pride, I stood before Kraznys mo Nakloz and one of the Good Masters name Griezhen mo Ullhor on a platform in luxury. The translator slave stood next to her master, going over the formalities. Once that is out of the way we began business.

"How many of the Unsullied you would like to purchase?" The Translator asked.

"All," I answered.

This surprised the Translator, "All? Did this one's ears mishear, Your Grace?"

"They did not. I want to buy them all," I said.

"_She wants to buy them all," _she told her master.

"_She can't afford them,"_ Kraznys said, which Griezhen chuckled. "_The slut thinks she can flash her tits, and make us give her whatever she wants."_

"There are 8,000 Unsullied in Astapor. Is this what you mean by all?" the Translator asked.

"Correct. All eight thousand and the ones still in training as well." I answered.

The Translator told her master.

"_If they fail on the battlefield, they will shame Astapor_," Griezhen warned.

"Master Greizhen says they cannot sell half-trained boys." The Translator explained. "If they fail on the battlefield, they will bring shame upon all of Astapor."

"I will have them all or take none," I said. "Many will fall in battle. I'll need the youngblood to pick up the swords they drop."

The translator told her master which Kraznys groaned shaking his head. "_The slut cannot pay for all of this…_"

"Master Kraznys says you cannot afford this." The translator said.

"_Her ship will buy her a one-hundred Unsullied, no more, and this because I like the curve of her ass,_" Kraznys said murmuring to Greizhen.

"Your ship will buy you a one-hundred…" The translator held her poise, "Because Master Kraznys is generous."

"_What is left will buy her ten._"

"The gold you have left is worth ten."

"_I will give her twenty if it stops her ignorant whimpering._"

"But good Master Kraznys will give you twenty."

"_The sword is Valyrian. I will give fifty for the sword._"

"Your sword is made of Valyrian steel?" the Translator asked.

"Indeed, it is," I confirmed.

"Master Kraznys will give you fifty for the sword."

"_Her Dothraki smell of shit, but may be useful as pig feed._" Kraznys continued.

"The Dothraki you have are not worth what they cost to feed…"

"_I will give her three for those._"

"…but Master Kraznys will give you three Unsullied for all of them."

I looked up seeing the children who were observing this transaction on the second story. All young wearing collars. They should not be standing here watching this. They should be playing outside by the beach having fun. Not questioning if they are going to be sold.

"_So, ask this beggar queen, how will she pay for the remaining 7,827?_"

"Master Kraznys asks how you propose to pay… for the remaining 7,827 Unsullied?" the translator asked.

I turned my focus onto Kraznys, "We have dragons. I'll give you one."

The Translator gasped as she leaned over to Kraznys. This caught the Good Masters attention.

Ser Barristan came over, "You will win the throne with dragons, not slaves, Your Grace."

"Alysanne, please." Ser Jorah murmured.

I gave him a warning look not to speak before walking closer to the platform.

"Three dragons," Kraznys offered in common tongue.

"One," I confirmed.

"Two." He offered.

"One," I repeated sternly.

Kraznys leaned back whispering to Master Greizhen. They held a private discussion before pulling back and nodded, as Kraznys said, "_We will take the big one._"

"They want the biggest one," the Translator said.

"Done," I agreed.

"Done," Kraznys agreed happily.

Daenerys came over as she whispered in my ear in Dothraki, "_Let us take her, she may be of use_."

I nodded addressing the party, mainly the translator, "I'll take you as well, now. You'll be Master Kraznys' gift to me. A token of a bargain well struck."

The translator hesitated as she spoke to her master, "_She asks that you give me to her, as a present. She asks that you do this now._"

"_Very well_," Kraznys agreed.

I nodded.

We signed off on the deal, and in three days the Unsullied will be ready in my disposal. Kraznys being considerate says I can keep the gold, Dothraki, and sword, but the ship remains. I accepted it, thinking he was bringing good faith. Little did these men know the intent I have for them. Let alone, Drogon doesn't obey to anyone except for Daenerys. Once a dragon bonds with their rider, no one can take that. So, Daenerys wouldn't mind giving the command once our armies are set.

Afterward, I made my way out of the Plaza of Pride with Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan behind me. Not pleased in how they interrupted the deal. Making the impression, I was weak and cannot speak for myself. If I am going to be Queen, I must be able to choose and accept the decision.

"Alysanne, a dragon is worth more than any army." Ser Jorah started.

"Aegon Targaryen proved that," Ser Barristan agreed.

A sharp turned, I faced the two knights, "You're both here to advise me. I value your advice, but if either of you questions me in front of strangers again, then I have no choice but to dismiss you." I warned. "Do I make myself clear?"

Both men astounded by my threat stood there speechless. Nothing else to say, I went to join Daenerys and the translator who waited at the gate. The translator was nervous as Daenerys tried to reassure her everything was alright.

"Do you have a name?" Daenerys asked as we started walking. Passing the streets where the Unsullied stood guard.

"This one's name is Missandei, your highness," the translator answered, looking down.

"Do you have a family? A mother and a father you'd return to if you had the choice?" Daenerys asked.

"No, Your Highness. No family living." Missandei answered.

"You belong to us now. It is your duty to tell me the truth," I told her.

"Yes, Your Grace. Lying is a great offense." Missandei said. "Many of those on the Walk of Punishment were taken there for less."

"I offered water to a slave dying on the Walk of Punishment. Do you know what he said to me?" Daenerys said, which Missandei shook her head. "Let me die."

"There are no masters in the grave, Your Highness," Missandei explained.

"Is it true what Master Kraznys told me about the Unsullied? About their obedience?" I asked.

"All questions have been taken from them. They obey, that is all. Once they are yours, they are yours. They will fall on their swords if you command it." Missandei answered.

"And what about you?" I asked. "You know that we are taking you to war. You may go hungry. You may fall sick. You may be killed."

"Valar Morghulis," Missandei answered.

"Yes, all men must die." I translated. "But we are not men."

Daenerys and Missandei were surprised by my response until giving a small smile.

We returned to the ship where I gave Missandei proper clothes and ordered her to remove her collar. The young woman was surprised, until explaining that the collar does not come off so easily. Only a master can take it off. Since Kraznys has forgotten to give me the key, I told her to sit down and drew a knife. Ever so carefully I cut off the collar. Once it was off, I tossed it away and examined her neck to be sure there was no abrasions or bruising. Fortunately, there was no serious damage. Missandei rubbed her neck surprised to have it off.

"How old were you when you were taken?" I asked.

"I was five years old," Missandei answered.

"Do you remember your home?" Daenerys asked. "Where are you from?"

"I am from an island called Naath," Missandei answered. "I remember when they rowed us away from shore. How white the beaches were, how tall the trees? And I remember my village burning, smoke rising into the sky."

"I'm sorry you had to go through with that," Daenerys said.

"Your Grace, may I ask what you intend on doing with the Unsullied?" Missandei asked.

"Building my army to take back our home," I answered. "And redeem House Targaryens name."

"I don't understand," Missandei said.

I sighed, "Our father, King Aerys the Second fell into madness of paranoia and violence. He saw everyone who wasn't his young children his enemy. Burning people with Wildfire. The Seven Kingdoms had enough and rebelled against him. Now when people hear House Targaryen, they associate us to our father."

"Did you know your father?" Missandei said.

Daenerys and I sighed, as we both said, "No."

Father died before Daenerys was born, and I hardly remember him. Other than being old, with long white hair and long nails. Almost terrified me.

"Now we are stuck in his legacy until we can make a change," I said.

Missandei nodded.

**.o0o.**

Three days later we arrived back to the Plaza of Pride courtyard. Today I will exchange Drogon for eight thousand Unsullied soldiers. Ser Barristan tried to change my mind this morning, but I had made a decision. Today, I shall remind Slaver's Bay the laws the Valyrian Freehold established for them five hundred years ago. Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan won't understand since their knowledge is limited to Westeros and Free Cities that don't participate in slavery. Men, women, and children, are human beings. And humans should never be collared or chained. A human is not a property.

So, the next three days, Daenerys and I made our plan for attack. Right now, Rhaegal and Viserion are with the Dothraki in their cages outside the walls. Once Drogon starts the attack the two shall follow. Fire and Blood, I keep to those words. I would usually give my enemies a choice, the same as Aegon the Conqueror did, however, the Masters had five hundred years and instead of following the laws of Old Valyria, they went back to tradition. A tradition that needs to ends.

The doors to the courtyard open as Daenerys, Missandei, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan and I entered. Aggo and Kovarro carried the cage that kept Drogon in. Other Dothraki members came on as well, in preparation for what is to come. The only people left out were Barristan and Jorah, since they can express easily than the Dothraki. In the courtyard stood the eight-thousand Unsullied, all in formation at the ready.

Meanwhile on the platform stood the Masters, along with their spouses and members curious and excited to see a dragon. Among the crowd was Kraznys as he spoke his greeting while holding a golden harpy in hand. Next to him was Master Greizhen. Keeping a neutral face, I entered making way to the platform.

"The master says they are untested." Missandei translated. "He says you would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Should you take captives, the masters will buy healthy ones and for a good price. And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys you send them may be Unsullied in their turn. Thus, all shall prosper."

Walking up the ramp, I stood face to face with Kraznys. I looked into his dark eyes to see if there was a slight chance of remorse in his action. All I saw was greed and power. I glanced at the people, seeing all the greed they held from the transactions of slavery. Keeping an eye on Kraznys, I told Daenerys to get Drogon. Daenerys obliged, as she went over to the cage, and got the biggest dragon. Drogon burst out of the cage into the sky while wearing a shackle on his ankle. The Masters were surprised and awe, even Kraznys. They came over as Daenerys handed him the leash, which Kraznys gave me the golden harpy.

"Is it done? They belong to me?" I asked.

Missandei translated it to Kraznys who tried to keep hold of the leash, smiling, "_It is done. She holds the whip._"

"It is done. You hold the whip," Missandei translated.

"_This bitch has her army,_" Kraznys confirmed.

I nodded turning around and walked over to the Unsullied. An army of eight-thousands eunuch soldiers. Well, Kraznys did mention I need to blood them early. Why must I march them to the nearest city when an opportunity is here.

"_Unsullied!_" I called out in Low Valyrian. Immediately, they went into attention, shields covering their chest. My company was shocked, turning to me. But I continued. "_Forward march!_" They obey doing so. "_Halt!_" They stopped at attention.

Krazyns struggled in restraining Drogon, "_Tell the bitch her beast won't come._"

I turned around facing him, "_A dragon is not a slave._"

This shock Kraznys, "_You speak Valyrian?_"

"_I am Queen Alysanne, and my sister is Daenerys Stormborn. We are of House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue_." I reminded then addressed my army. "_Unsullied! Slay the masters, slay the soldiers who dare challenge you, slay every man who holds a whip but harms no woman and child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!_"

The whip men who wander through the Unsullied were the first to go down. As the Unsullied came up behind them and stabbed them through the back with the spear. The rest started marching forward to the platform where the rest of the Masters were. Some trying to escape.

"_I am your master!_" Kraznys ordered his soldiers. "_Kill her! Kill her!_"

"Kraznys mo Nakloz," I addressed him. "_Thank you for the business deal. However, I must confess that the dragon is not mine, but the one you call a fool_."

Kraznys eyes widen as he looked at Daenerys who smirked at him. As she said the ancient words of the Dragonriders, "Dracarys!"

Just like that Drogon breathed fired onto Kraznys mo Nakloz. The Good Master screamed in agony until the flames consumed into ashes. Drogon now free through the bonding between Daenerys flew away casting hell on Astapor. Not long after Rhaegal and Viserion took to the sky burning the city on where they saw the masters and soldiers. Meanwhile, the Unsullied began sacking the city, killing the Masters, killing soldiers who dare attack, free the slaves, and sparing every woman and child. I could have made the Ghiscari an extinct race, but I am not my father.

Securing the golden harpy to my belt, I drew my sword if anyone dares attack, before walking over to Daenerys who stood arms crossed watching. The Dothraki surrounded us, as Missandei stayed close to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan who had their swords ready.

By afternoon, Astapor was conquered. I ordered the Unsullied to bring me the sons of the Good Masters. It wasn't long when five boys and their mothers were brought in. Mere adolescent just reaching adulthood. They fell to their knees quivering in fear.

"_You are spare of your life because you shall not be held accountable for the actions of your fathers and forefather. Tell every master family, that you will release every slave in Astapor. Every man, woman, and child will be given as much food, clothing, and property as they can carry as payment for their years of servitude. The fighting pits will come to an end. Reject this offer, and I shall show you no mercy._"

All five boys agreed. I told them the Captain of my ship will observe this. Once he sees that all is in good hands, he can leave. But if anything were to happen to the Captain, I will send men to remind them of my mercy. The Mothers agreed.

I nodded, till facing Daenerys, Ser Jorah, and Ser Barristan looking at me surprise. Nothing else to say, I walked down the platform making way to my army. The Unsullied were back in formation. Earlier, I received a report that only ten had perished in the sacking. Ten out of eight thousand. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the center was a black horse was. Mounting the dark stallion, I secured the reigns addressing my army.

"_Unsullied! You have been slaves all your life. Today you are free. Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. I give you my word. Will you fight for me? As free men? The choice is yours! No one can take that!_"

Silence. Only the sounds of the fire pits. Until there was a sound of tapping. One by one, the tapping grew to realize it was the Unsullied tapping the staffs of their spears onto the gravel ground. Soon all were tapping until they got into the rhythm, synchronizing the beat.

I smiled, realizing I did something no one has done in over five centuries or maybe the first time in history. I bought an army for a day, and after one day, I gave them their freedom. Now I have an army of free men who are willing to serve me in my campaign. I know I cannot compensate them on the mutilation and abuse they went through growing up. But I can assure they will be fed and shelter. Once we take back the Seven Kingdoms, they will have a home. Their future won't be the same as any man, yet I will give as much as I can.

Ensuring I mean what I said, I raised the golden harpy whip into the air. Viserion swooped down and took it. He tossed it high in the sky, and whispering 'Dracarys' he burned the golden harpy. Signifying they are not property, but free men.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	20. Chapter 20: Leadership and Trust

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

_**A/N: Hey guys, a lot of you have been asking me what Alysanne romantic interest will be. To tell you the truth, I don't know her overall love interest will be. Currently, she cares for Ser Jorah. My plan in the story doesn't have a confirm solid love interest. It could be Jorah. It could be Jon. It could be Joffrey…okay, I'm joking about the last bachelor. Couldn't resist. Patience…**_

* * *

**Chapter 20: Leadership and Trust**

After the sacking of Astapor and securing the city, I took the opportunity to enjoy a bath. Not having one since Qarth. So, with my hair up, I sank into the bath and sigh. I know I am taking a risk in sacking Astapor, but it needed to be done. As Visenya said, I need to learn how to rule through the land of the Harpy. Slaver's Bay is the land of the Harpy. Did Visenya want me to come here to do what I did? It has been five or so months since I last saw her in my dreams. Maybe that is what they were… dreams.

Or maybe I'm just going insane by believing in these dreams. Growing up I did idolize Visenya…before she has stolen the crown Aenys the First to make Maegor king. The debate between which son should be king, since Aegon had two sister wives. Rhaenys gave birth to Aenys first, even though she was the second wife, and Visenya was the first wife, but Maegor was the second son, but first born to his mother. After Maegor, House Targaryen stopped the practice of Polygamy to put an end of the confusion of the line of succession. The conflict didn't happen again until the Dance of Dragons.

But before the line of succession issue, she was a great warrior I admire. One of her mission was confronting Queen Regent Sharra Arryn, by flying through the Vale, and passed the Bloody Gate where the garrison had been tripled. Vhagar landed up to the Eyrie, landing in the courtyard where she met the boy-king Ronnel Arryn. She could have killed the boy and set Vhagar to burn the Eyrie to the ground. Instead, she held the boy on her lap telling him stories until Lady Sharra came. A silent conversation, as Mother said, as the Mother knows the value of a child. Visenya could either kill Ronnel or take him as her ward/prisoner. Lady Sharra surrendered, giving the crowns and swords. Visenya could've left, yet she did one thing no one expected, she took Ronnel for a ride on Vhagar. The boy flew to the sky as a king and landed as a lord.

That is why I admire Visenya during the conquest. She took the battle against Kings and soldiers, not risking the lives of women and children…until Rhaenys death. If you know how to play the game, so many lives can be spared. Blood and Fire, Life or Death, let the opponent decide how the battle will go. Astapor has been told five times to stop; therefore, the Good Masters have chosen death. Astapor is a warning for Yunkai and Meereen. Either they oblige to the new world, or they can join the Good Masters.

I didn't realize I dozed off in the bath when I open my eyes seeing Visenya across from me. Looking around seeing were back in Dragonstone based upon the carvings of dragons on the wall. Although, we were both naked in a bath. Immediately, I covered my chest.

"No need to be bashful, we're only women here," Visenya said amused.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"I'm quite impressed in what you have done since Qarth," Visenya murmured. "What you did with the Undying Ones, Pyat Pree, and Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Before you killed them, did you see what they showed you."

"You mean all that bloodshed and the man of ice?" I asked to be sure.

"The man of ice is the Night King, a White Walker, though the First Men called him the Others," She answered.

"And the army of the dead?" I asked.

"They are called wights," she answered.

"Is that what the Great War is about? This Night King and his army of Wights?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"I'm not sure, none of the spirits know for sure. Their origin is complicated as it is. The dead are coming, and Westeros is not ready for it as it used to be during the Age of Warriors."

"Shouldn't I go to Westeros now, prepare them for what is to come?"

Visenya sighed, "You are not ready. You may have dragons and eight-thousand Unsullied, but the Westerosi Lords don't want you. You can stay and rule Slaver's Bay, but it is not your home. So, you must learn to rule in a society that is based on brutality before ruling a land of order. Remember what I told you."

I sighed but nodded.

"Trials and tribulations, my dragoness. You shall go far south in the east; there you will meet the undying. They shall show you what is to come. Next, you shall sail north, in the land of harpies learning what it means to rule. Then, when the horses shall come, and krakens lend its ships, west you go. You will be tested; friends become enemies, enemies become friends, betrayed and heartbroken. A lioness shall challenge you, and a wolf shall support you. Listen to the white wolf, for he has seen what is to come." Visenya repeated. "The Undying Ones showed you what is to come. You are now in the Land of the Harpies. Once the horses and Krakens come to lend their support you will know when it's time to come to Westeros. Right now, you have made a personal mission. One Aenar would agree too."

I paused taking her word in, "I'm truly going mad."

Visenya chuckled shaking her, "You are not. You are far east to be connected to magic." She then sighed, "But you need to be cautious with your sister."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I understand you want to share equal power with your sister. However, there can only be one person sitting on the Iron Throne. You are a Queen; she is a princess. She may be a Khaleesi to her small khalasar. In the end, you are in charge. You can't let her challenge you. Otherwise it's another Dance of Dragons."

"And if I don't…"

"Then the Madness will spread to that of your father. She is impulsive. That impulsive behavior could be the end of you." She explained.

I took a deep breath, "Can it be prevented?"

"If you teach her control and respect authority. Otherwise, it's best she doesn't join you when the time comes to sail to Westeros."

I nodded.

"Luckily, if you have children it will be the end of the Targaryen Madness, resetting the bloodline." She assured.

I sighed, hoping that is true. Yes, it was Valyria culture for an incestuous relationship. However, when the Doom of Valyria occurred whatever magic protected the effects of incest is gone. Leaving the Targaryen Bloodline with bad seeds. Although five have been documented in madness, many dealt with health complication and women dealing with miscarriages. Thinking about it, am I dealing with health complications and Daenerys the mental disease. I always bruised easily, and when I get injured, it takes a long time to heal. The cut where Viserys accidentally cut me took a month to heal leaving a scar on my chest.

Changing the subject, "Any more advise?"

"When the time comes, enforce Westeros law in judgment," Visenya said.

Before I could ask her what she meant, something grabbed my shoulder startling me awake — opening my eyes to find myself back in Astapor where Missandei stood by the tub.

"Forgive me, your grace, you were asleep in the bath," She apologized.

I stared at my hands seeing they have pruned. Thanking Missandei, I got out of the bath, and put on the robe. Then took a seat by the vanity, as Missandei took a brush and started brushing my hair.

"How is Daenerys?" I asked.

"She is well, Your Grace," Missandei answered.

I nodded looking at the Naathi through the mirror's reflection, "Missandei, I need you to do something for me that you cannot share with anyone."

"If that is what Your Grace commands," she replied.

"I need you to keep a close eye on Daenerys," I said. "If she does anything impulsive or says something that makes you feel uncomfortable you report to me."

Missandei nodded as she finished brushing my hair. Once done in preparing for bed, I told Missandei she is free for the night. She nodded leaving for her chambers. After freeing the Unsullied, I told Missandei she is free to go whenever she likes. She refused, stating she wanted to join our cause, offering her service. So, I made her not just my handmaiden, but my translator and advisor. She knows the slave culture better than any of us.

I enter my temporary chambers, pouring myself a glass of water when there was a knock on the door. Throughout the building the Unsullied took guard, so it had to be a member of my company. I walked over opening the door to see Ser Jorah.

"Jorah," I greeted letting him in. "I'm a bit exhausted if you are considering training at night."

"No, Alysanne, that is not why I'm here," Jorah assured. "Ser Barristan and I are wondering what are your plans now."

I nodded going over to the lounge taking a seat, "Right now, secure order in Astapor that the Good Masters won't return to their practice of slavery. Once that is out of the way, gather enough supplies and volunteers before marching up North to gain more soldiers and support for my campaign. What city is next?"

"Yunkai," Jorah answered. "It will take at least a fortnight to get there by foot."

"Then Yunkai is where we go," I said.

Ser Jorah nodded, then hesitated. He appeared to have something on his mind. Something was bothering him, especially when Ser Barristan arrived joining our company.

"Is something wrong, Jorah?" I asked him.

He snapped out of his daze, opening his mouth to speak but then closed it. He then sighed, "I must confess…"

I stared at him confused, wondering what he needed to confess about. Over the year I learned so much about Ser Jorah, and when Viserys died, he told me the truth on who he sided with in the war. Yes, he was one of the rebels in Robert's Rebellion, but he was bound by duty and obeying his father to support House Stark. I didn't hold him accountable for that. As Houses are bound by duty and the actions that Rhaegar and King Aerys the Second did that started a war. The people I have a vendetta with is House Baratheon, House Lannister, and House Arryn. House Baratheon were our cousins, and they betrayed us. House Arryn were the ones who called the banners. As for House Lannister, they sacked King's Landing, under Tywin Lannister's orders, killing Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon. Meanwhile, Ser Jaime Lannister broke his vows and killed his King. I want to look at Ser Jaime in the eyes and tell me why he murdered my father.

Ser Jorah took a deep breath and told me what was bothering him, "In Vaes Dothrak, a messenger from Lys arrived."

"What did the messenger bring?" I asked.

"A letter, from my wife," Ser Jorah answered. "Somehow she convinced Tregar Ormollen to send an envoy to Westeros and annulling our marriage."

My eyes widen not expecting that. The annulment was rare, one hardly used, "How do you feel about it?"

Jorah sighed, as he took a seat next to me, "That I waste so much of my life away."

I placed a hand on his shoulder, "You are a free man now. No more obligations to her, fear of being enslaved, and you can marry at your heart's content."

He nodded. I don't know why he is nervous about telling me about it. Maybe he thought someone would tell me he encounters someone with a letter which wasn't from Pentos and assume the worse. I appreciated that he told me beforehand. Maybe wished to tell me earlier, then again it was personal. It was his marriage. Now it gave me a clear understanding of why he was open after Vaes Dothrak. He was free.

"Well, it's getting late," I told Ser Jorah. "There is much to do tomorrow."

Ser Jorah nodded as he stood up, "Forgive me for disturbing you."

"There is nothing to forgive," I assure.

"Training tomorrow?" he suggested.

I nodded. So, saying goodnight, he left the room while I got ready to bed. A small smile lifted my lips, thinking of a possible future.

It won't be a week, and a half did I feel comfortable in establishing order in Astapor with the five new Good Master and the five members from people who were once slaves. With the Captain of the ship being the eleventh, I felt the city was secured, and reminding them of my warning. Many of the free slaves got their payment of servitude and left Astapor, many who were kidnapped getting on ships to return home. Others who have no home started trying to make their own or leaving Astapor to start over. While others remained, Daenerys took the time in establishing hostels and galleys so those who are staying can recover and save to buy a home, providing food and shelter. The rest had volunteered to join me to support the Unsullied. Now we are a company of ten-thousand making way for Yunkai. During that time, I told the Unsullied to get the officers assembled and as an army to decide their chain of command.

In the courtyard, twenty Unsullied officers stood at attention. Nothing in their armor distinguish them from their rank, which made me wonder how eight thousand men can tell each other apart. I will have to make a change in that, especially in their armor. For the leather may block slashes to the chest from a sword, doesn't prevent penetration attacks.

"These are the ones?" I asked.

"Yes, your grace. The Officers," Missandei answered.

"_You didn't choose this life_," I said. "_But you are free men now. And Freemen make their own choices. Have you selected your own leader from amongst your ranks?_"

They did a half-face, creating a pathway where one Unsullied stood. He shoved his spear to the sand.

"_Remove your helmet_," I ordered.

The Unsullied soldier obeyed, using one hand to untie the straps and removed his helmet. He appeared to be around my age, having no facial hair, though the hair atop his head is short and black. He is stocky, of medium height and square. He expressed a serious face, on the edge of solemn. He walked over stopping before me, _"This one has the honor."_

"_What is your name?"_ I asked

"_Grey Worm,"_ he answered.

"_Grey Worm,"_ I repeated confused for it sounded like an insult than a name. I looked at Missandei to explain the reason behind this.

"All Unsullied boys are given new names when they are cut – Grey Worm, Red Flea, Black Rat," Missandei explained. "Names that remind them what they are – vermin."

_Well, I will change that_, I thought.

"_From this day forward, you will choose your own name. You will tell your fellow soldiers to do the same. Throw away your slave name. Choose the name your parents gave you or anyone that gives you pride. Names that give you're your identity."_ I said.

"_' Grey Worm' gives me pride_." He said. "_It is a lucky name. The name this one was born with was cursed. That was the name he had when he was taken as a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one had the day Alysanne Targaryen set him free."_

I was surprised and honored that freeing them gave them a choice. I walked over placing my hand, "_And it is an honor to have you as the leader of the Unsullied, Commander Grey Worm."_

The young man tried not to smile, yet his brown eyes showed pride. I will make sure he received some tutelage from Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan on leadership. And a lesson in Common Tongue with Missandei to ensure he bilingual when the time comes, we set for Westeros. The same going to the rest of the officers.

Once all is ready, we left Astapor the following day at dawn.

**.o0o.**

_The Two Knights._

Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan have been traveling by the Dragon Sisters side since leaving Astapor a few days ago. They were surprised by the drastic change in their queen's behavior as Alysanne appeared to be a bit introverted, or at least not very talkative. Ser Barristan thought the young woman being abused by Viserys made her so compliant like her mother, Queen Rhaella. But when making a deal with Kraznys, the old knight thought she was making a mistake. On the day of the exchange, for the first time in nineteen years, he thought he saw Rhaegar again through Alysanne. Already he can compare Rhaegar and Alysanne traits from their indigo eyes, the facial shape, and the golden-white hair. Now seeing her personality when it came to war, Barristan knew he was following his friend again.

Although, the Queen does become quiet and isn't very extraverted. Ser Jorah assured him when the Queen is quiet; it means she is thinking. Ser Jorah, on the other hand, was apprehensive with Ser Barristan around. He was wondering why the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard truly left Westeros. One of his concerns is that Varys sent him to expose his secret. Back in Astapor, he tried to tell Alysanne the truth, but…he couldn't. Ser Jorah was afraid on how she would react in telling her he sent information about the Targaryen siblings' whereabouts and Daenerys pregnancy. So, he only told her of the annulment. Jorah had the document buried deep in his sack and burned the pardon never to be seen again. He bet Lynesse is ecstatic when his letter arrives to her in Lys.

Returning to his thoughts, Jorah needs to be sure what Ser Barristan intentions lie. So, like most knights in taverns goes, they talked of their adventures as Ser Jorah went over his experience in the Greyjoy Rebellion. The war that earned him his knighthood.

"It was a bitch of a siege," Jorah said.

"Mm, you were first through the breach at Pyke?" Barristan asked.

"The second. Thoros of Myr went in alone, waving that flaming sword of his." Jorah corrected, lifting his hand recreating Thoros.

Barristan chuckled, "Thoros of Myr. Bloody madman. Robert knighted you after the battle."

"Proudest moment of my life," Jorah agreed. "One knee in the dust, the king's sword on my shoulder, listening to the words. 'In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.' All I could think of was how badly I had to piss."

Ser Barristan boomed a laugh knowing the feeling. They spotted Alysanne, Daenerys, and Missandei joining the officers. Deciding to give them privacy, they went ahead of the stream still in sight of the Dragon Sisters. The got off their horses and hurried to pass through the Unsullied line leading their steeds to the water.

"In full plate metal for sixteen hours. Never occurred to me till the fighting was over. I was nearly the first man knighted to piss on the king's boots," Jorah continued, making Barristan laugh again. "Robert would have laughed."

"He was a good man, a great warrior. And a terrible king." Barristan replied. "I burned away my years fighting for terrible kings."

"You swore an oath," Jorah reminded.

"Yes," Barristan sighed. "And a man of honor keeps his vows, even if he's serving a drunk or a lunatic. Just once in my life before it's over, I want to know what it's like to serve with pride, to fight for someone I believe in. Do you believe in her?"

Jorah looked over his shoulder seeing Alysanne standing before the officers, "With all my heart."

"And Daenerys? Is she a good heir?" Barristan asked.

"She is young and still learning, but like all adolescents can be impulsive," Jorah answered. "Don't be surprise if the Queen asks you to tutor Daenerys about Westeros."

"The Queen believes in knowledge over power?" Barristan asked.

"That she does," Jorah answered. "Believes in both sides of the same coin."

"Just like Rhaegar," Barristan sighed.

Jorah did not know how to respond to that. He remembered seeing Rhaegar at the tournament in Lannisport in honor of Viserys's birth. How he played his harp that reduces women to tears, at the same time besting a dozen knights in the jousting tournament, among them being Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne. Then there was the Tourney at Summerhall, watching Rhaegar defeating Ser Arthur Dayne. Taking the winter rose crown for the Queen of Love and Beauty, trotting passes his wife and setting it on Lyanna Stark's lap. The moment when all the smiles died. That was the last he saw Rhaegar.

Jorah went back to his goal of knowing what Ser Barristan mindset. Once the horses were hydrated, they started walking again.

"King Robert wanted them dead."

"Of course, he wanted the sisters dead. They are Targaryens. The last Targaryen," Barristan replied.

"I suppose no one on the Small Council could speak sense to him," Jorah guessed.

"I didn't sit on the Small Council," Barristan confessed.

"No?" Jorah asked surprised. "Doesn't the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard traditionally- "

"Traditionally, yes, but I killed a dozen of Robert's friends during his rebellion." Barristan interrupted then got on his horse. "He didn't want advice on how to govern from a man who had fought for the Mad King. Can't say I minded much. Always hated the politics."

Jorah got on his horse as the two continue.

"Yeah, I imagine I would, too." Jorah agreed. "Hours spent jabbering about backstabbing's and betrayals the world over."

"Mm-hmm," Barristan replied.

The older knight had his eyes forward. Jorah felt nervous, recovering himself, so Barristan doesn't see. A part of him wants to know what Barristan knows of him. The Dragon Sisters have forgiven him on his crimes of Slavery. Learning the hard way after going into exile and losing Lynesse. However, did Barristan the Bold know about him trading secrets to Varys in exchange for a pardon.

"Still, she'll have to wade through that muck if she wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms." Jorah continued.

"She'll have good men around her to advise her, men with experience," Barristan assured.

"Which men do you have in mind?" Jorah asked.

"Forgive me, Ser Jorah, for what I'm about to say, but your reputation in Westeros has suffered over the years," Barristan replied.

"It suffered for a reason. I sold men into slavery." Jorah explained.

"I don't know if your presence by her side will help our cause when we go home."

Jorah felt a bit insulted, yet kept his composure, "Our cause? Forgive me, Ser Barristan, but I was busy defending the Dragon Sisters against King Robert's assassins while you were still bowing to the man."

"We both want Alysanne to rule. Am I wrong?"

"You only joined us a few weeks ago. I can't speak to your intentions."

"If we're truly her loyal servants, we will do whatever needs to be done, no matter the cost, no matter out pride."

"You're not Lord Commander here." Jorah reminded. "You're just another exile. And I take my orders from the queen."

Ser Jorah rode off while Ser Barristan watched him. The older knight knows he has a long way to go to earn Alysanne and Daenerys trust. What the Bear Knight had was time with both women, gaining their trust. Barristan won't deny the fact Ser Jorah did save the girls a handful of times. Even witness Jorah training Alysanne on how to use a sword — seeing how the man looks at her as any potential suitor. If the Queen were to wed, she would need to marry a powerful lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Recalling a time, Rhaegar and Elia having dinner and playfully say that Quentyn Martell would be a good match for Alysanne. Securing Dorne's alliance, and the dragon's blood. Not have a queen marry a man who has been married twice, sold slaves, and is exiled. Barristan believes in redemption, yet not all redemptions can be restored to full absolution.

Yet Barristan knew he had a lot of work to do in preparing the Queen if she allows it. Educate her on what she needs to know about Westeros. However, time is in order. He wishes he has enough time, being a man of his age.

* * *

**One more day until Game Of Thrones Season 8.**

**Thanks for reading and leave a review!**


	21. Chapter 21: Yunkai

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or the books**_

_**A/N: Hello my lovely readers, I hope you enjoyed the season 8 premiere. I got to say, I was impressed. Favorite part was Drogon warning look to Jon.**_

* * *

**Chapter 21: Yunkai**

_Daenerys' POV_

Daenerys rode on a white mare that reminded her of Silver. The weather was hot, but having her experience in the Red Waste the heat seemed to be nothing. As she continued to ride beside Missandei and Alysanne. Throughout the travels, she noticed her sister has been quiet. A typical behavior, but she has been too quiet unless addressing her officers or someone initiates a conversation. Daenerys tried to start these conversations; after ten minutes they seemed to die out. A part of her was worried about what Alysanne was thinking. What happens in Astapor was a drastic change compared to Qarth. What happened in the House of the Undying did something. As Alysanne said, she saw something she wished to have not seen. Far worse than the appearance of the Undying Ones.

Daenerys sighed, wondering how long it will take until they set sail for Westeros. So far, they have eight-thousand Unsullied, two thousand volunteers, fifty Dothraki warriors, twenty-five Dothraki women and children, two exiled knights, and one translator. Oh, and let's not forget three dragons. They have no ships since there one from Qarth was given to the Captain as compensation. So, they have to keep growing until they have enough soldiers, including their campaign to end slavery.

She wished Khal Drogo's Khalasar was in support of her and not the mere one hundred. Drogo had an army of forty thousand, and it was her naïve mistake that cost his life and their unborn son Rhaego. Ser Jorah mentioned through the bamboo forest that the Dothraki favor slaves as currency. It wasn't until Lhazar, after the poison attempt and her encouraging Drogo to keep Viserys promised did she realized the price. Now Alysanne is setting her campaign morally right. Let people have a choice to serve or not — no blood money.

However, the silence was still getting to Daenerys wondering if she did something wrong. Ever since Qarth, she has been pounded by learning. Reading the books, Ser Jorah gave and lectured by House Targaryen history and those of Westeros. It surprised her the lesson Viserys gave of full pride and superiority is a complete opposite from Alysanne realization of truth. Recognizing House Targaryen isn't perfect; there were great kings, mad kings, and average kings. In the end, out of nineteen generations of House Targaryen migrating to Westeros, and thirteen being rulers, she learned about countless wars some caused by her ancestors. Four Dornish Wars, five Blackfyre rebellions, Dance of the Dragons, Maegor against the Faith Militant, and numerous rebellions from Houses who felt insulted by their ancestor's decision. The Last Rebellion being Robert's Rebellion.

Do dragons blood runs in their veins? Yes. Can they ride dragons? That they can. Can fire burn them? No, as if it was taking a bath. However, Alysanne keeps reminding Daenerys, that even though they have these blessings now from Viserion, Drogon, and Rhaegal, and immune to fire, it wasn't a year ago they thought they were human. They are still human.

"We are flawed, Daenerys," Alysanne told her. "We can appear divine based on our beauty and dragons, but we can bleed and die just like everyone else."

As she took a knife and cut her hand showing the blood.

"We are human, so don't let pride get the best of you," Alysanne added.

At first, Daenerys felt a bit insulted, but after riding for a day, she started to understand what her sister meant. Let alone her small conversation with Ser Barristan told her about her family, "_I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Highness. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air, and the world holds its breath to see how it will land_."

The Mother of Dragons wonders why Alysanne has been cautious about their decision. Daenerys knew her brother was going mad. Only his was pressure into in rejection of society. Now she and Alysanne are the last of House Targaryen in name and blood. She knows there are distant cousins are out there. However, she can see Alysanne worry about the chances of Madness. They are wondering if they will go mad in time.

She sighed, having a fear of that too. However, she doesn't want to think about fear. She wants to think of a positive. Then a thought she planned at the Red Waste returned as she looked ahead seeing Ser Jorah galloping up to Alysanne who was ahead giving a report. Several days ago, Alysanne told Daenerys about the annulment. In other words, Jorah was an eligible man that won't affect Alysanne reputation. The Khaleesi wanted her sister to be happy for a change when it came to a romantic partner. Also, she found Ser Jorah as a father figure, one she needed since Alysanne been a mother hen. So, a selfish desire for playing matchmaker.

Just as she was plotting, she noticed the Alysanne face grew serious. Curious, she trotted her horse over.

"What is it?" Daenerys asked.

"Yunkai is a mile ahead," Ser Jorah reported.

"Let's go see it," Daenerys said.

Alysanne nodded, "Let's get some of the Dothraki riders and Unsullied."

"As you wish," Ser Jorah said.

Once they gathered enough men, including Ser Barristan, they headed forward to see Yunkai. It wasn't long when reaching the border by early afternoon. Getting off their horses, they went by foot to get a better look long the rugged terrane.

"Yunkai," Ser Jorah announced. "The Yellow City."

Yunkai is made of yellow bricks, with crumbling walls, towers, and tall stepped pyramids as one pyramid held a golden harpy on top. A great harpy was mounted above the city gates.

"The Yunkish train bed slaves, not soldiers." Ser Barristan informed. "We can defeat them."

"On the field, with ease," Ser Jorah agreed. "But they won't meet us on the field. They have provisions, patience, and strong walls. If they're wise, they'll hide behind those walls and chip away at us, man by man. "

"I don't want half of our army killed before we've crossed the Narrow Sea," Alysanne said.

"We don't need Yunkai, Alysanne." Ser Jorah said, looking at his queen. "Taking this city will not bring you any closer to Westeros or the Iron Throne."

"How many slaves are there in Yunkai?" Daenerys asked.

"200,00, if not more," Ser Jorah answered.

Daenerys looked at her sister, "Then we have 200,000 reasons to take the city."

The Mother of Dragons stared at the Dragoness of the West, pleading her to do this. Both sisters know what it likes to be forced into a bed and be taken. Daenerys, at first, struggled to understand Drogo feeling like she had no consent until understanding the culture. And she knew Alysanne being raped or pressured into sex by Viserys. Neither wants a woman or child to be forced into a sexual act without consent.

Alysanne sighed, as she walked over to Grey Worm, "_Send a man to the city gates. Tell the slavers I will receive them here, and accept their surrenders. Otherwise, Yunkai will suffer the same fate as Astapor."_

Grey Worm nodded, as he did an about-face and went to send an envoy. The dragoness returned glaring at the city, "Let them decide in how this conquest will go."

Daenerys smiled thanking her sister.

It would be by sunset when the envoy returned saying a representative of Yunkai, a Wise Master name Razdal mo Eraz will arrive in two days to discuss terms. Daenerys found the two days strange unless it would give the Wise Masters time to discuss matters. All it did, is allow the Unsullied to set up camp.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I gave the Wise Masters of Yunkai the opportunity decides on how they wanted to be conquered, by surrendering or Fire and Blood. Aegon the Conqueror arranged a meeting between Loren Lannister, King of the Rock and Mern IX Gardener, King of the Reach. Aegon allowed the men to surrender, sparing the lives of their soldiers. Both kings did not kneel. The next day, they met at the battlefield where the grounds were of dried, and the Targaryen siblings set the field aflame. Henceforth the battle was called the Field of Fire. Loren Lannister bends the knee, as for Meran Gardener perish on the battlefield and the extinction of House Gardener. Aegon gave them a choice, and what they chose has consequences. So hopefully the Wise Master, follow their namesake and are wise to surrender.

Already, the Unsullied created a trail that will lead the representative to the Officers tent. There, I sat on a silk couch alongside Daenerys. We wore draped gowns, although mine was black with red trim while Daenerys wore white. To our right were the dragons while on the left, stood Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan. At the side of the tent stood Kovarro, Aggo, and Grey Worm, while Missandei stood at the entrance to greet our guest.

The sound of drums could be heard, as the Yunkai soldiers lead the way while slaves carried a man on a palanquin. The slaves set the palanquin down, as the man came out walking over. He appeared lean and hard, brown skin, and dark hair that was groomed with oil. His attire similar to those of Astapor; however, it was blue instead of green in the fabric.

"Now comes the noble Razdal mo Eraz, of that ancient and honorable house, master of men and speaker to savages, to offer terms of peace," Missandei announced.

Rhagael and Drogon screeched at him, being a stranger. Razdal stumbled back not expecting to see the dragons. Daenerys petted Drogon to assure him all is well, while I scratched Rhaegal's chin.

"Noble lord, you are in the presence of Alysanne of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Breaker of Chains, and Dragoness of the West. Along with her sister, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Princess of Westeros, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and Mother of Dragons."

Razdal stood there cautious.

"_Welcome, Razdal mo Eraz."_ I greeted. _"Have a seat."_

A chair was brought over in which Razdal accepted. Missandei came over offering a glass of wine, "Will the noble Lord take refreshment?"

Razdal nodded, accepting the drink. His dark eyes stared into my own, as he took a sip of wine, before setting it down and spoke in the common tongue, "Ancient and glorious is Yunkai. Our empire was old before dragons stirred in old Valyria. Many an army has not broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, Your Grace."

As he was talking, Daenerys reached into a bowl and tossed a piece of meat into the air. The dragons flew in to catch, which Viserion was the victor flying away. This startled Razdal, yet he tried to keep his composure.

"Excellent. Kraznys mo Nakloz said the Unsullied need practice, and to blood them early." I informed.

"If blood is your desire, blood shall flow," Razdal said. "But why? 'Tis true you have committed savageries in Astapor. But the Yunkai is a forgiving and generous people."

He clapped his hands as four slaves came over presenting two oriental chests filled with gold blocks. Afterward, the slaves bowed to the ground as if they were dogs.

"The wise masters of Yunkai have sent a gift for the Dragon sisters," Razdal said. "There is far more than this awaiting you on the deck of your ship."

"My ship?" I asked, not expecting that.

"Yes, Your Grace," Razdal answered. "As I said, we are generous people. You shall have as many ships as you require."

"And what do you ask in return?" I asked.

"All we ask is that you make use of these ships. Sail them back to Westeros where you belong and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace." Razdal answered.

I stared at the slaves seeing their arms were tired and feet blister from carrying the gold over here. The collars around their neck a bit tight, as sweat formed around it. Razdal could have had a wagon to transport the gold. Instead, he had these men carry it in this climate. He could even ride a horse or camel to the camp instead of being carried by a palanquin. Back in Pentos, the palanquins were carried by strong men who were paid twice than an ordinary servant. However, the men who lifted Razdal mo Eraz were slaves. Receiving no payment.

"I have a gift for you as well," I murmured. "Your life."

"My life?" Razdal asked confused.

"And the lives of your wise masters," I answered. "But I also want something in return. You will release every slave in Yunkai. Every man, woman, and child shall be given much food, clothing, money, and property as they can carry as payment for their years of servitude. Reject this gift, and we shall show no mercy.

"You are mad," Razdal accused. "We are not Astapor or Qarth. We are Yunkai!"

"Five hundred years ago, the Yunkish were following the laws of the Valyrian Freehold. Our forefathers banished the act of slavery. Five times you rebelled, and five times you were put down. Must we remind you for the sixth time." I murmured.

"We have powerful friends. Friends who would take great pleasure in destroying you. Those who survive, we shall enslave once more. Perhaps we'll make a slave of you as well!" Razdal threatened standing up.

Immediately all three dragons screeched at him.

Razdal stepped back, "You swore me safe conduct."

"She did, but not I," Daenerys said. "I nor my dragons made no promises. And you threaten their mother."

Razdal hesitated and order his slaves, "Take the gold."

The four slaves came over, but Drogon and Viserion jumped on top screeching a warning.

"Our gold. You gave it to us, remember?" I said, standing up. "And I shall put it to good use. You'd be wise to do the same with my gift to you. Choose wisely, Wise Master of Yunkai."

Razdal mo Eraz glared at me before leaving muttering in Valyrian. I couldn't get much, but there were a few colorful words a man should not say in front of a royal. Once he was gone, I turned facing my council.

"The Yunkish are a proud people," Ser Barristan said. "They will not bend."

"And what happens to things that don't bend?" Daenerys murmured. "They aren't Martells."

"Still, I gave them the offer, and they will accept the consequences," I said with a sighed, crossing my arms. "He said he has powerful friends. Who was he talking about?"

"I don't know," Ser Jorah answered.

"Missandei, do the Yunkish have their own Unsullied?" I asked my translator.

"No, Your Grace," Missandei said. "Their soldiers are Yunkish. Although, their vanguard is made of slave men."

"_Grey Worm? Are you aware of Yunkish soldiers_?" I asked.

"_They are not elite as Unsullied,"_ Grey Worm answered.

Razdal mo Eraz seems determined about his supposed friends. If the Yunkish soldiers and slave soldiers are not capable of a siege by the Unsullied, then who is? I looked at Ser Jorah, "Find out."

"As you wish," Ser Jorah replied, then left to investigate.

Drogon took custody of the couch as Daenerys petted him making the dragon purr. Rhaegal took the stand, grooming himself. I wonder where Viserion was when a sudden weight crashed onto my back knocking me down. I groaned, knowing who the attacker was as Viserion started licking my neck. The Council tried not to smile or laugh, except Daenerys failed miserably. I seriously need to break this habit Viserion has before he becomes too big that he'll crush me before I sit on the Iron Throne.

**.o0o.**

After a slight recovering from Viserion's hug, I changed into training clothes. As Ser Jorah was investigating, Ser Barristan took the opportunity to train me. In a small area in camp as the Unsullied were training the recruits, and the boys where they weren't Unsullied yet. Only a thousand of the youngblood join our cause. The rest who haven't been cut decided to stay in Astapor to make sure the new Council follows the new laws.

"How long have you've been training?" Ser Barristan asked, pulling out the tourney swords.

"Less than a year," I answered. "So far Ser Jorah focused on defense and basic attack."

"Good," Ser Barristan said, as he handed me the tourney sword. "It's been a long time since a Queen wielded a sword."

"And who was that?" I asked.

"Well, your mother was inspired by Queen Daena the Defiant. Wanting to go out and ride her horses, shoot a bow. Anything to be free from the castle," he answered.

I was surprised by this. Hearing that my mother was a free spirit in her youth. I remember her being frail and gentle, along with the abuse she went through by my father as their union was arranged over a stupid prophecy of a Prince that was Promise.

"Why did she stop?" I asked.

Ser Barristan sighed, "She was in love with a young land knight name Ser Bonifer Hasty. He made her happy, brought life into her, yet their affair was short live since Bonifer was to low birth to be her suitor. Rhaella threatened to renounce her claim and leave for love, yet Prince Jaehaerys forced the marriage from the woods witch influence. King Aegon tried to prevent it, but in the end, Aerys and Rhaella were wed. The moment your parents consummated the marriage, all that freedom vanished. King Aerys limited her freedom. The Queen your mother was always mindful of her duty. No matter how much she was suffering. I wished I did more for her."

"You were bound to the king," I said, my eyes watery from the suffering my mother went through. "I wished she was here. Life would have been different. But I promise to make sure none of House Targaryen Bloodline will continue the practice of incest. Our children will never marry their brothers or sisters."

"Your Great Grandfather would've been proud to hear that," he said.

"Now, is the Lord Commander of the Queensguard going train me or not?" I teased.

Ser Barristan chuckled, "I may be old, but I should warn you, I have many years under my belt."

"It's a good thing we are using tourney swords," I murmured.

Training occurred, but it was brutal. As most of the time I was either on the ground with a sword pointed at me or restrained with blunt metal against my throat as Barristan would say "dead." His style of fighting is entirely opposite of Ser Jorah. Both men were similar in using your other hand to grab the opponent, except Jorah, was about straightforward while Ser Barristan uses his sword distance, moving around to cover any attacks.

I ended up on the ground, with a sword aim at my chest. A groan escaped from the impact, as I open my eyes looking at Barristan the Bold.

"Are you sure you're not a Faceless Man wearing an old man's face?" I asked.

Barristan laughed, as he offered a hand, "I appreciate the compliment."

The Faceless Men were assassins in Braavos. Ser Willem and other Braavos lords warned us to be cautious. As mentioned before, they were trained assassins who have the ability to wear another person's face — killing people as gifts to the Many Face God. They resigned in the House of Black and White, and there have men many deaths of supposed natural deaths either it is falling from the stairs, sudden illness, or a simple mugging. In the end, assassins who make death seemed natural before the person life is up. Thankfully, Viserys, Daenerys, and I never crossed paths with them.

"For a beginner, you did well," he said. "You still got a long way to go. How much do you train?"

"When traveling one hour a day," I replied.

"Once we settle, I recommend two hours a day, and one by night." He suggested.

"If there is time," I agreed.

Ser Barristan nodded knowing with all this traveling there isn't much spare time. I know I won't be skilled as Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, but I want to be able to understand how to use a sword and protect myself. There is no possibility I will be marching into a battle. However, growing up with enemies everywhere its best to be safe than sorry. Especially with Razdal mo Eraz threat.

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	22. Chapter 22: The Second Sons

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**Languages:**

_Dothraki_

_Valyrian_

Common Tongue

_**Old Ghiscari**_

* * *

**Chapter 22: The Second Sons**

_Alysanne's POV_

Ser Jorah arrived by morning bringing news on Yunkai's supposed powerful friends. A large company of Sellswords. I asked him how large, and he advised I showed him. Telling Daenerys to watch the camp, I took a small party consisted of Jorah, Barristan, Grey Worm, and other Unsullied soldiers. As us Westerosi dressed as Ghis citizens, while my hair covered. We made our way to the walls of Yunkai, seeing the sellsword company.

Examining the banners, I can tell they were not from the Golden Company. Their banners were gold solid gold with no design. Let alone the absence of elephants. Instead, the company of Sellswords, focus more on horses as they ride about. Seeing their banners have a broken sword on a field of red and yellow. They have never been on the West side of Essos since Viserys would try to host some feast with Essos Western Sellswords.

"Men who fight for gold have neither honor nor loyalty," Ser Barristan quietly said. "They cannot be trusted."

"They can be trusted to kill you if they're well paid," Jorah added, leaning against the wall with one arm. "The Yunkish are paying them well."

"You know these men?" I asked. Recalled that Ser Jorah used to serve several mercenary companies, including the Golden Company to provide for Lyneese spending. Hopefully, he knows who these men are and their capabilities.

"Only by the broken swords on their banners," Jorah answered. "They're called the Second Sons. A company led by a Braavosi named Mero, "The Titan's Bastard."

I scoffed, looking at him. "Is he more titan or bastard?"

"He's a dangerous man, Alysanne. They all are," Jorah warned.

"How many?" I asked.

"Two-thousand, Your Grace," Barristan answered. "Armored and mounted."

"Enough to make a difference?" I asked.

Ser Barristan nodded. I have eight thousand Unsullied trained in the shortsword, shield, and three spears. The only issue is that they have horses. A skilled warrior can make a significant difference in battle. I consider to asked Grey Worm about it but reconsidered since it would be offensive. In the end, we will win, but many lives will be a loss. I am going to use Aegon tactic of offering surrender first before battle to see how sharp they are. Or if they are more balls and bronze. See if it is possible to recruit the Second Sons, and gain two thousand horses.

"We still outnumber them," I finally said. "I'm sure the sellswords prefer to fight for the winning side."

Jorah gave an impressive smile as he nodded, "I imagine you're right."

"I'll like to talk to the Titan's Bastard about winning," I said.

"He may not agree to meet," Barristan inquired.

"He will," I murmured, staring into the camp. "A man who fights for gold can't afford to lose to a woman."

Jorah and Barristan gave a small scoff like chuckle. But I was serious. The East of Essos is of the desert lands which is run by an institution of strength and brutality. Let alone, a man will not tolerate a woman defeating him in the art of war. So will the Titan's Bastard challenge the Dragoness of the West, or accept my offer? We shall see.

We left the ruins before any of the Seconds Sons could spot us. Ser Barristan offered to meet the Second Sons extending the invitation. I was hesitant, until assigning two of my Unsullied with him. Afterward, we return to camp in preparation for the Second Sons.

**.o0o.**

It would be around noon when Ser Barristan returned with three members representing the Second Sons. One of the three stood out, as the center was a Braavosi, being tall and muscular. Having pale green eyes, cropped hair, and a scar down his right cheek. He must be Mero. On his left stood a Ghiscari man who had a broad face with long dark hair. On the other side was in his late twenties, lean and built with tan skin and long brown hair. He appeared opposite from the others in his company.

I sat center of the couch with Daenerys on my left. The dragons we put away, not to give our guest the upper hand on expectation. Inside the tent was also Jorah, Missandei, and Grey Worm. Kovarro and Aggo remained at the entrance of the tent as security.

"Your Grace, allow me to present the captains of the Second Sons –," Ser Barristan introduced. "Mero of Braavos, Prendahl na Ghezn, and…uh…"

"Daario Naharis," the youngest introduced.

_Naharis, that's a Tyroshi name_, I thought. Getting a better look at Daario's face seeing a Western Essos citizen. The long hair and exposure to the sun made him appear he was from the East.

Mero stepped forward with a smirk, "You are the Dragoness of the West?"

"I am," I confirmed. "And you're the Titan's Bastard."

Mero scoffed, "I swear I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys."

The Lyseni holds resemblance to the Valyrians. From the statuesque features, pale skin, silver-gold hair, and purple eyes. As long-ago Lys used to be considered a paradise by Valyrian dragonlords. A place many Valyrians went to for relaxation…before the Doom of Valyria. Possible hundreds of Valyrians who were there escaped the destructions and populated with the Lyseni. However, House Targaryen is the last dragonlords.

Still, the compliment was not appreciated. Yet I kept my composure as did Daenerys. Even if Mero saw me in Lys, doubt he fucked me since I was guarded by the Host Family. It was Ser Jorah who stepped forward giving a warning look.

"Mind your tongue," Jorah warned.

"Why? I didn't mind hers." Mero challenged as he came over taking a seat next to me. "She licked my ass like she was born to do it." As he stuck his tongue out flexing it about like some dog and laughed. Then looked at Missandei, "You, slave girl, bring wine."

"We have no slaves here," Daenerys told him calmly.

"You'll all be slaves after the battle unless I save you," Mero disagreed.

"Oh really?" I replied.

"Take your clothes off and come and sit on Mero's lap and I may give you my Second Sons." Mero offered happily.

"Give us your Second Sons and I may not have you gelded," I countered offered.

Mero snorted quite impressed. Just talking to him and I felt revolted. A filthy pig. He may resemble a Braavosi, but he is definitely not from that culture. Felt sorry for the mother who had to give birth to this ass.

"Ser Barristan, how many men fight for the Second Sons?" I asked.

"Under two-thousand, Your Grace," Ser Barristan answered.

"We have more, don't we?"

"Ten thousand Unsullied."

Mero barely shrugged from it. Missandei came over handing the men their drinks. As Prendahl sat on a chair and Daario sat on the steps beside the couch. Mero accepted his drink, as Missandei went to stand next to Ser Jorah.

"I'm only a woman, new to the ways of war, but perhaps a seasoned captain like yourself can explain to me how you propose to defeat us."

"I hope the old man is better with a sword than he is with a lie," Daario said. "You have eight-thousand Unsullied."

"You're very young to be a captain," Daenerys murmured.

Daario smiled at Daenerys.

"He's not a captain. He's a lieutenant," Prendahl corrected.

"Even if your numbers are right, you must admit the odds don't favor your side," I said.

"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won," Mero said.

"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run," Jorah taunted.

"Or you could fight for me," I offered, trying not to chuckled from Ser Jorah's remark.

Mero laughed finishing his drink, gesturing Missandei to refill his cup. "We've taken the slavers' gold. We fight for Yunkai."

"I will buy you out of your contract and pay you much more," I suggested.

Missandei poured him another glass. Mero leaned forward and sniffed at Missandei privates. This caused the Naathi to stumbled back, that Ser Jorah had to catch her, so she doesn't fall off the platform. Tension engrossed the tent, as all my warriors want to kill Mero on the spot right now. My translator got off the platform to make some distance between her and Mero.

"Our contract is our bond," Prendahl said. "If we break our bond, no one will hire the Second Sons again."

"Ride with us, and you'll never need another contract," I said. "You'll have gold and castles and lordships of your choosing when we take back the Seven Kingdoms."

"You have no ships," Daario spoke out. "You have no siege weapons. You have no cavalry."

I stared hard into Daario's blue eyes, "A fortnight ago, we had no army. A year ago, we had no dragons." I faced Mero, "You have two days to decide."

Mero sat up, as he slapped his hand on my thigh close to my privates, "Show me your cunt. I want to see if it's worth fight for."

Jorah hand was instantly on his swords handle as was Ser Barristan. Before either could draw their blade, a short sword was between Mero and I. The person holding it was Grey Worm with a serious, almost deadly look, that his glare would kill if that were possible.

"_My Queen, shall I slice out his tongue and hand for you?"_ Grey Worm asked bitterly.

Carefully pushing the blade away and lifting Mero's hand off my lap, "_These men are our guests."_

Impressed by Grey Worm's control and realizing he can understand the common tongue.

I took a deep breath shoving Mero's hand away, "You seem to be enjoying the wine. Perhaps you'd like a flagon to help you ponder."

"Only a flagon?" Mero asked. "And what are my brothers in arms to drink?"

"A barrel, then," Daenerys suggested.

"Good," Mero said, standing up. "The Titan's Bastard does not drink alone." He finished his drink and set the silver cup down before walking off the platform facing me. "In the Second Sons, we share everything. After the battle, maybe we'll all share you."

Daario passed by, though his attention was on Daenerys.

Mero came over to Missandei, "I'll come looking for you when this is over."

As his hand smacked Missandei buttocks before leaving. Missandei was stronger this time, as she only flinched slightly than earlier. Still, my translator was uncomfortable in the situation. Basically, sexually assaulted. I could see it in her eyes; she doesn't want to go through that forced experience again. I scowled, watching the three men leave.

"Ser Barristan, if it comes to battle, kill that one first," I ordered.

"Gladly, Your Grace" Ser Barristan obliged.

No man has ever touched in that manner since Viserys. The fact Mero of Braavos has the audacity to touch me without my consent will cost him his hand. I tried to suppress the memories of Viserys touches when his mistresses or lady of the night were not enough. Feeling my muscles tight, and negative emotions stirring.

"Alysanne?" Daenerys asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"_I need a scolding bath_," I muttered. "_And burn the pants_."

Daenerys nodded, in understanding what I meant. I stood up excusing myself, wanting to be alone. The moment I entered my personal tent, I collapsed on the bed taking several deep breaths trying to catch my bearings. Cocky, disgusting bastard, how dare Mero to think he can have his way with a woman. He will suffer a painful death.

Still, as a precaution, I got up going into my chest pulling out a small box. When I open the lid, revealing a casket of vials. Back in Qarth, I went through the night market where I found a Lys stand selling tonics and elixirs. Been taking this potion that prevents pregnancy as a precaution since starting my campaign in Slavers' Bay. Taking a vial out, I swallow a mouth full to be safe. I cringed at the taste, before putting the cork back on and put the vial away. So far, this elixir works as my flower blooming period has been short and light. Placing the vial away, I took a deep breath.

_How can one man rattle my emotions that badly?_ I thought.

"Alysanne," Ser Jorah called out.

Closing the chest, I stood up, "Enter."

Ser Jorah entered the tent, "Your sister said, you wanted to see me?"

I paused confused since I did not give any request to see Ser Jorah, "No, I didn't."

"Forgive me, I did not mean to disturbed you," Jorah said.

"It's alright," I assure him.

"And forgive me for not protecting you from Mero advances," he added.

I took a deep breath, "We did not anticipate it or his reputation. However, I can see why he calls himself the Titan's Bastard. If Viserion were there, he would have set the bastard ablaze."

Jorah gave a slight snort knowing that was true. Viserion was protective, just as Drogon is to Daenerys. Took months for Viserion to consider Jorah not a threat. Although, the exile knight had acquired a few indented scars on his hand from that experience.

"Am I doing the right thing?" I asked him. "Challenging Yunkai and the Second Sons?"

"As I told you before, you have a gentle heart. You care for people than riches." Jorah answered.

"I don't know what is worse, being an Unsullied or a bed slave?" I sighed.

"It's Meereen that has the worse version of slaves," he said.

"What do the Great Master practice?" I asked.

"Labor," he answered. "I heard they keep the men underneath the city to sleep isolated from the woman and children. They live in small quarters as servants, taken advantage of while the men labor away on the ground or in the field. Even they have a hierarchy of a laborer, servant, or tutor."

I frown, remembering the men Razdal mo Eraz presented to carry the gold and palanquin. Imagining hundreds of thousands of men working nonstop from sunrise to sunset. When it is dark, to go beneath the city to sleep in cold darkness while the Great Master leisure in their hard work.

"Then Meereen is where we go…once we establish Yunkai," I said.

"As you wish," he said.

He always says that when I make a tough decision or a simple request. _As you wish_. Even with the distraction, I was still disturbed by Mero's threat. I have a feeling that Mero and his Second Sons won't accept the offer. The arrogant bastard who wants nothing but to fight and fuck.

"Can I ask you a favor, it may sound foolish," I said.

"Anything," he replied.

"The next two days, can you be my side. Just in case Mero has other ideas," I requested.

"I swear no one will come near you without your consent," he promised. "I will also increase the number of guards."

I smiled a little, "Thank you."

Ser Jorah smiled a little in return.

Jorah has been by my side since leaving Pentos. Starting off serving as Viserys supporter, then my friend. Now he is my general and loyal advisor. Since Viserys death, I'm starting to have feelings for him. I care for him, appreciating his words of wisdom and guidance. He has done many things that go against society standards. Yes, he has made a mistake in the past, but he has redeemed himself in exile.

Since then he has been by side. Someone I could depend on more than anything else in the world right now. Especially as my feelings were growing for him.

**.o0o.**

_The Walls of Yunkai_

Mero of Braavos, Prendahl na Ghezn, and Daario Naharis were gathering around in the officer's tent. Unlike most sellsword companies, they were a bit more lay back, as they gather around drinking wine that the Dragon Sisters' provided. They were discussing about Alysanne's offer. Mero was weighing his options, although slightly distracted with a whore he purchased for the next two days. One who held the same charisma as him, though talked at the right moment. Prendahl being Ghiscari rejects the offer. Meanwhile, Daario sat on a chair watching his captains.

Daario, on the other hand, doesn't seem interested in killing the Dragon Sisters. He found them unique, a beauty found in legends and songs. The Princess, Daenerys if he recalled had captivated him. A new pursuit to seduce a woman. As for Alysanne, he found her beautiful, but the way he saw the knight behind her acted considered she was already taken. Or have command of eight thousand Unsullied at the ready.

Unlike his Commanding Officer Mero, he does not believe women are property. But beautiful creatures to seduce willingly. Long ago, Daario paid women for their company, but the act of fucking seemed one-sided, even if the woman was enjoying his touches there was no connection. However, when it comes to a willing woman who wants nothing more than passion, where he can feel the spark that entices him more than a quick release.

"Little dragon bitch. She talks too much," Prendahl said, sitting down.

"Ah, you talk too much," Daario jest, snapping out of his thought.

"She won't talk to so much when she's chocking on my cock," Mero promised.

"Eight thousand Unsullied stand between her and your cock," Daario said, holding his dagger, a stiletto which it's handle was the shape of a naked woman.

"My cock will find a way," Mero laughed, looking at his whore. "Tell him. Is there any place my cock can't reach?"

Daario finished polishing his dagger, "She'll tell me whatever you pay her to tell me."

"Daario Naharis, the whore who doesn't like whores," Mero taunt.

"I like them very much. I just refuse to pay them," Daario explained. "And I'm no whore, my friend."

Mero cupped the woman's privates, "She sells her sheath, and you sell your blade. What's the difference?"

"I fight for beauty," Daario answered.

"For beauty?" Prendahl laughed.

"We fight for gold," Mero reminded.

"The gods gave men two gifts to entertain ourselves before we die," Daario said. "the thrill of fucking a woman who wants to be fucked and the thrill of killing a man who wants to be killed."

"You'll die you," Mero said.

"What do we do about the dragon girls?" Prendahl asked. "We can't beat eight thousand Unsullied on the battlefield."

"There won't be a battle. And we don't have to deal with her eunuchs. We only have to deal with the sisters." Mero said.

"They're well-guarded," Prendahl reminded. "Just putting a hand on her almost cost you your limb."

Mero chuckled, remembering how he touched Alysanne, feeling her body tense and the warmth through her leather pants. He can tell she wanted to be fuck. Shame that he won't get the opportunity. Not since he has a contract with Wise Masters. They sent an envoy which Prendahl informed they want little bloodshed as possible. Oh, how he would love to go straight into battle and rape the living daylights out of her. A song about the Titan's Bastard fucking the Dragoness of the West. Maybe he could, as a plan came to mind.

"Tonight's a new moon. One of us slips into her camp past the Unsullied and her knights."

"Which one of us?" Prendahl asked.

Mero had an idea, looking of his lady of the day, "Close your eyes, love."

The woman did so with a smile. Mero took out his small coin purse pulling three coins of gold, silver, and iron. Gold was Meereen with a harpy on it, the silver engraved with Volantis filigree, while the last one was iron in square shape from Braavos.

"Three Coins. A coin from Meereen, a coin from Volantis, and a coin from Braavos. "Mero said showing to his officers. "The Braavosi does the deed."

Prendahl and Daario nodded.

"One for each of us, darling," Mero said putting in the woman's hand. He turned her around and kissed her ass, "No peeking."

Mero gave a gentle smack on her bum and pushed her towards Prendahl. She blindly walked over to Prendahl who had his arm out. She giggled when touching it, feeling his hand and gave him a coin. Slowly she turned around, caution of the table and made her way back to Mero handing him his coin. Now the hard part was Daario, who sat farther away from the Commanding Officers. Daario noticed this and spoke softly to her.

"Do you hear me?" Daario murmured. She stopped turning to his direction. "Follow my voice. I'm right here." She walked over until Daario took her hands and gently tug her down to his lap, which made her chuckle. "You have something for me?" he asked as the woman gave him the coin. The square coin. He smiled, staring at Mero, "Valar Morghulis."

"Valar Dohaeris," Mero replied back.

Little did Mero and Prendahl know that Daario will not be following orders. Just as he was about to leave the camp both Mero and Prendahl were greeted by Daario's arakh. Their heads fell on the floor before either could attack when blades were already drawn. He put their heads in a satchel then stop staring at Mero's body. Pulling out his stiletto, he knelt over the corpse to cut off one more appendage.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

"So how many languages can you speak?" I asked Missandei.

"I can speak nineteen, your grace," Missandei answered.

In the royal tent, Daenerys and I were doing our evening baths. I had mine earlier, simply washing my skin and nothing else. Daenerys, on the other hand, forgot to apply lotion against the sun is now soaking in a milk and ointment bath. Missandei took a sponge washing her arms to remove the damaged skin. It was not serious, but still being sunburnt isn't pleasant. Meanwhile, I sat on a stool applying different type of lotion to smooth the skin and keep it hydrated.

"Nineteen?" Daenerys asked surprised.

"Yes, your highness," Missandei confirmed, with a chuckle.

"How can anyone speak nineteen languages?" Daenerys asked.

"It only took Your Highness a year to learn Dothraki reasonably well," Missandei said.

"Yes, well, it was either learn Dothraki or grunt at my husband and hope – "Daenerys chuckled then stopped. "What do you mean reasonably well?"

Missandei paused pulling back slightly, "Dothraki is difficult for the mouth to master. So guttural and harsh."

"_Drogo said I spoke Dothraki like one born into it_," Daenerys said in the language. "_It gave him great pride."_

Missandei and I stopped since she mispronounced pride. She said Athjahaka and not Athjahakar. It brought back memories of Irri teaching us the lesson. _May she ride forever in the night lands with Rahkaro. _

"_Athjahakar_," Missandei corrected.

"Athjahaka," Daenerys tried to say.

"_Athjahakar_," I said.

"_Ath-ja-hakar_," Missandei broke the word into parts.

"_Athjahakar_," Daenerys said, getting it right. "Well, I supposed I'm a bit out of practice. Alys, how is it you're able to pronounce it still."

"Well, I do tell the Dothraki children stories," I reminded. "Although, I think they laugh at my accent more than the story itself."

"Your High Valerian is very good, Your Grace. The gods could not devise a more perfect tongue," Missandei complimented. "It is the only proper language for poetry,"

"I couldn't agree more," I said, as I started doing my legs.

Missandei went over to the table to grab another ointment when suddenly she gasped. My head snapped up seeing an Unsullied soldier restraining Missandei by having a dagger to her throat and a hand over her mouth. The situation was worse since I left my sword on the other side of the room and sat naked. Meanwhile, Daenerys was exposed in the bath.

"No screaming or she dies," the assassin said.

"Daario Naharis," I seethed.

"You remember me," Daario replied, as he moved around the tub until facing Daenerys and I. He then removed his helmet. I scowled, hoping my soldier has not been harm.

"What do you want?" Daenerys demanded.

Daario smiled, pointing the blade to Missandei throat, "You."

"Let her go," I warned.

"Don't scream, lovely girl," Daario murmured to Missandei ear and let her go.

Missandei rushed over to me with her hand over her neck.

I stood up glaring at him, "You were sent here to kill us?"

Daario chuckled from that; his eyes linger on my body.

"So why haven't you?" Daenerys asked.

"I don't want to," Daario answered.

Missandei grabbed my robe and put it on me. I secured the strap and glared at him, "What do your captains have to say about that?"

"You should ask them," Daario replied.

He removed the satchel off his shoulder and dropped the contents on the ground. What it was were two severed heads of Mero of Braavos and Prendahl na Ghezn."

"Why?" I demanded.

"We had philosophical differences," Daario explained.

"Over what?" I asked.

"Both of your beauties," Daario answered. "It meant more to me than it did to them."

"You're a strange man," Daenerys murmured.

"I'm the simplest man you'll ever meet. I only do what I want to do." Daario replied.

"And this is supposed to impress us?" I asked.

"Yes," Daario said with a nod.

"Why would I trust a man who murders his comrades?" I asked.

"They ordered me to murder you lovely ladies. I told them I preferred not to. They told me I had no choice. I told them I am Daario Naharis. I always have a choice. They drew their swords and I drew mine." Daario answered. He also pulled out a small purse, "I did one thing for Mero. He said he would fight his way in to get his cock to you. I did him a favor."

Daario disposed of the content in the purse revealing a bloody penis. No doubt if Mero did the assassination attempt, Daenerys and Missandei would be dead, and I will be raped before my throat was bit slit. So, to see the sever penis was disturbing but at the same time satisfying, knowing I promised Mero to be gelded and sparing women from sleeping with that beast.

Daenerys got out of the bath. Missandei rushed to get her robe, while I blocked Daario view from her. However, it wasn't enough as the man smile, admiring the view. Have to be careful with this one. It hasn't been a year yet since Drogo's death. Once Daenerys was in her robe, she stood next to me.

"Will you fight for us?" Daenerys asked.

Daario nodded.

I walked over staring into his eyes, "Swear it."

He pulled out his arakh, bending the knee presenting his weapon, "The Second Sons are yours, and so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours; my life is yours," he then looked at Daenerys, "my heart is yours."

My sweet sister blushed not expecting that. I will consider in letting Daario being Daenerys sworn shield. But until I know he is worthy; he will have to earn his way. Since the man did, in fact, murdered his two captains. On the bright side, I have two thousand sellswords, and two thousand horses in my army.

The only problem is…how am I going to explain this to my knights.

No doubt Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan will be furious to hear that Daario Naharis entered our tent while being indisposed. And if Grey Worm can understand common tongue…no doubt, there might be another castration.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	23. Chapter 23: Mhysa!

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**Languages:**

_Dothraki_

_Valyrian_

Common Tongue

**_Old Ghiscari_**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Mhysa!**

As predicted Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, and Grey Worm were not pleased to see Daario Naharis. It took them a great deal of strength not to stab the man when Daenerys said he arrived during our baths. At least Black Scarab is alive. A bit beaten up and not happy that Daario knocked him out and left him naked. I gave Black Scarab a few days off to see if that can compensate the...misunderstanding.

Currently, we were gathered around the officer tent. Those there for the meeting was Daario, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Grey Worm, Missandei, Daenerys, and I surrounded the table with a map of Yunkai. Daario was going over the locations, the essential gates, and where the Yunkai soldiers will be. We plan to sneak into Yunkai, have a word with the soldier slaves, and hopefully, the siege can happen without casualties.

We planned to get the armies inside Yunkai with fewer casualties as possible. One method is to enter the city from a back passageway, there we can talk to the slave soldiers to drop their weapons and let the Unsullied through. We are not here to conquer them. No, we are here to liberate them. Daario had one gate in mind to sneak in our insurgents.

"Where?" Daenerys asked.

"There?" Daario answered pointing on the map. He moved around standing behind Daenerys, taking her hand and place it at the location. "There. It's a back gate."

I gave Daario a warning look. His flirtation on my sister is not professional in a war meeting. Let alone, my seventeen-year-old sister is in the prosses of mourning. It hasn't been a year yet since Drogo's death.

Daario gave an innocent smile, "My men use it when they visit Yunkai's bed slaves."

Jorah crossed his arm, and scratched his chin, "Your men, but not you?"

"I have no interest in slaves," Daario said. "A man cannot make love to property."

Daenerys glanced at Daario intrigued.

"This is where we enter the city," Daario explained back to being serious. "Very few guards. They know me. They let me inside –"

"We're not gonna sneak an army through a back gate," Ser Barristan said.

"I kill the guards. I take your two best men and lead them through the back streets, which I know well and open the front gates. Then comes the army," Daario suggested. "Once the walls are breached, the city will fall in hours."

"Or perhaps you'll lead Grey Worm and me to the slaughter, cutting the head off our army," Jorah debated. "The master of Yunkai will pay your fee, and you won't have to split it three ways 'cause you've already slaughtered your partners."

"You have a very suspicious mind," Daario said, impressed. "In my experience, only dishonest people think this way."

Jorah scowled from that remark, then address Grey Worm who has been quiet during the meeting, "You command the Unsullied. What do you think?"

"_You are a leader now_," I told him. "_Do you trust him?_"

Grey Worm glanced at Daario and then the map before looking at Jorah, "_I trust him."_

"So be it, you three will leave tonight while the moon is still dark," I said.

"Very good," Jorah said. "We'll prepare."

Jorah and Grey Work started heading out. Daario followed but stop to give Daenerys a flirtatious smile. I arched a brow, wondering what that is all about. Daenerys tried avoiding my question. Meanwhile, Ser Barristan walked over to Ser Jorah.

"Ser Jorah," the old knight called out.

The three men stopped facing him.

"You can use an extra sword," Ser Barristan offered.

"You're the Queensguard, Ser Barristan. Your place is by the queen." Ser Jorah said. Barristan was going to say something, but Jorah continued. "If we are truly her loyal servants, we'll do whatever needs to be done no matter the cost, no matter our pride."

Ser Barristan stared into Jorah eyes until conceding. I know the older knight is far experience in warfare than any of us. However, traditions are tradition, and royal guards must stand by the royal side. Though deep down, does Ser Barristan want to fight and die on the battlefield? The three men left as Ser Barristan turned around facing Daenerys and me.

"In time, Ser Barristan," I promised. "When we go back home you shall see glory on a battlefield."

Ser Barristan nodded. I needed a skilled knight in the art of war when we laid siege to Westeros. He will know about the Houses and their armies. Can he do damage at the invasion, yes, he can. But Daenerys and I need protection. Our military is still in the infancy phase. We may have accumulated two-thousand sellswords, we are still in the process of making the chain of command. Until then Barristan needs to be by my side until all is settled.

**.o0o.**

By the late afternoon, I went to see Ser Jorah. I know I should let him be so he can prepare in sneaking into Yunkai, but I needed to talk to him. Tonight, will be risky since we won't be using the dragons as we did in Astapor. Tonight, it is about my council proving themselves to advise me and demonstrate their strategy and abilities. Still, I care for Ser Jorah deeply that I want to see him one more time in case something terrible happens.

Taking a deep breath, I stood at the entrance of his tent, "Ser Jorah, may I come in?"

"Enter," Jorah said.

I entered the tent seeing Ser Jorah sharpening his broadsword. The sword being longer than my arming sword. It was simple, as the hilt was wrapped in tight leather to ease the grip, while the pommel has a spear with a brass detail of the circle cross. It was the scabbard that was ornate. As the sheath designed with a bronze shade of peacock feathers and bronze studs.

"Alysanne, do you need something?" Jorah asked, as he took the wet stone and sharpen the edge.

"I just wanted to talk to see your opinion about Daario Naharis?" I answered.

"I don't trust him," he said. "Something about him seems off. That he has no respect towards authority, killing his captains. This could be a trap."

"You did mention that earlier, that this could be a ploy to get rid of my two best warriors and he can earn the entire payment from the Wise Masters." I agreed. "But it's the risk we have to take in saving the slaves."

"As you wish," Jorah said.

"Although, if Daario does betray you and Grey Worm, you are at liberty to kill him," I added.

"I will take you on that offer," Jorah said with a slight chuckle.

Probably because he doesn't appreciate that Daario snuck into camp and into the royal tent. The time that Jorah was not by my side was when I was bathing. I can tell that this bothered him, either it's because he was not there preventing Daario trespassing or the fact Daario saw me naked. At least the Tyroshi hold little interest in me, but he is blunt on his interest in Daenerys. It has only been several months since Drogo's death. I want her to mourn and grieve properly. Let her body recover from giving birth to Rhaego, then let her decide if she wants to marry or wait. I won't put her in a arrange marriage. But I will decide if her potential spouse is worthy for her. Right now, I don't see Daario worthy. However, I can't stop her. The best thing I can do is give her the Lys elixir and see what the Tyroshi man is capable of.

Still, the risk of sending my men bothers me.

"Please be careful," I managed to say.

Jorah stopped what he was doing and looked at me surprised.

"It's hard for me to make true friends," I said. "Over the past year, you are someone I care about deeply. I would feel guilty if you were to die because of a mistake I made."

The exiled knight got up and walked over to me. He stood before me and place a hand on my shoulder, "You honor me with your words. You are blood of my blood. My Queen, I'll do whatever you command me to do."

I took a deep breath, "At least let me give you a token."

Ser Jorah raised a brow wondering what that would be. Most tokens a woman gives to a soldier or a knight is a ribbon or handkerchief. Since I have neither, I stood up a bit more and pecked his lips. This staggered the knight not expecting it. I smiled slightly from his reaction. Hopefully, it doesn't distract him in battle. When I pulled back, I tried not to chuckle as if I was seeing a younger version of Ser Jorah standing there. A daze like smile.

"Be strong, be careful, and be cautious," I murmured.

"I will, you have my word," Jorah promised.

"I shall let you get ready," I said and made my way out of the tent.

Some people would think the relationship was wrong. Based on the age difference, blood status, and past transgression. However, we are not perfect. I was forced to commit sins that goes against the Faith of the Seven and other religions. Forced to perform in the act of incest and marrying my brother. Ser Jorah, he sold men into slavery and has spent his years in exile to atone for it. Now, it's time to start over.

Most importantly, I promised myself I will not marry out of duty. Marrying Viserys was forced and an obligation to keep the bloodlines pure. If I were to marry it will be out of love. Therefore, I don't give a damn in what others think.

King Aerys the Second left a legacy that smeared my name because I was his daughter.

**.o0o.**

_Ser Jorah's POV_

Darkness arrived over Slaver's Bay. The moon was a young moon, as a sliver of silver illuminated the lands. Not enough to expose the earth, compromising the three insurgents about to enter Yunkai. Jorah and Grey Worm knelt behind a ruin where the back gate stood. Daario looked out seeing one guard standing at the back entrance. He turned around facing the two generals.

"When you hear a songbird's whistle, you come. "Daario instructed. "I'm a great whistler. The greatest in the land."

With that said Daario headed to the gate. Jorah looked at his shoulder seeing his comrade holding the same annoyance under his helmet. Both considering Daario being the most arrogant warrior they ever met. It's good to be confident, except too much confidence and a cocky attitude won't get allies to like you. The two lean over the ruin seeing Daario walking over to the soldier who was on guard.

"_Who goes there!_" the guard demanded.

"Daario Naharis," the Tyroshi answered.

The guard nodded, opening the back gate letting Daario inside. Jorah found this suspicious, seeing it was too easy for a guard to let someone in by just a name. Even in his years as a sellsword in Braavos and Lys, guards check for danger. Both generals waited for a couple of minutes until hearing a whistle of a songbird. Cautious, they went inside through a dimly lit alley.

Once they enter the first opening, both check each side finding two dead guards with their throat slit. Blood covering them and the wall.

"This one was quick," Daario said, sitting on a wagon cleaning his arakh.

"There may be others," Jorah said, as he walked over.

Grey worm nodded, as he removed his helmet.

"I doubt it," Daario said, standing up. "The Yunkish prefer to let their slaves do their fighting for them."

As if Daario jinxed them, many guards' soldiers appeared out of nowhere from alleyways, roofs, and buildings. The Yunkish soldiers shouted, charging for the attack. All men drew their weapons and went on the defensive until seeing an opportunity to strike. Two soldiers went for Jorah, slashing away that he blocked. He strikes getting both men weapons down. Grey Worm used his shield blocking the attack of three men and spun his spear stabbing one in the gut then slash the second soldier in the throat. Meanwhile, it appeared Daario was having fun slashing at his opponents going for the arms and neck. They fought valiantly, with much determination careful not to exhort too much energy and strike where the armor did not cover.

Jorah killed another soldier, turning around hearing someone coming from behind. He turned around seeing Daario holding the stiletto and aimed it at him. Out of reflects, he turned to the side as the blade flew across him and impaled another soldier. A soldier charged behind his fallen comrade which Jorah turned striking his back only an overkill when Daario slashed the man's stomach.

Not long after twenty men were dead.

"That's what you call a few guards?" Jorah growled.

Daario merely smiled.

The sound of the battle in the back gate caught many soldiers' attention. Jorah ready himself looking at Grey Worm who nodded. The Exiled Knight had a feeling this was going to be a long night. He just hopes it's not another sixteen hours. Just as predicted, thirty more soldiers came barging in with swords and spears.

"A long night indeed," Jorah muttered.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

I waited in the officer's tent with Daenerys, Missandei, and Ser Barristan. The Dothraki Screamers were protecting the camp along with five hundred Unsullied as the sacking took place. When nightfall came and the hours of sleep engulfed Yunkai all we could hear was silence. It won't be till the middle of the night did we started to hear the battle cries. And so, it begins.

During the time I bowed my head and prayed, giving the warrior and mothers prayer. Daenerys looked at me strangely, since she genuinely hasn't been one for religion. I, on the other hand, continue to the practice the Faith of the Seven. Our Septa would sing hymns and mother teaching me the proper prayer. Even if my life has been hell, the gods did so much when I pray. So far, they answered many prayers from Host families taking us in, and preventing unwanted pregnancy when Viserys forced me to have sex. Including prayer to put an end to my marriage when I had enough. A month later Khal Drogo gave Viserys a molten crown of hold, from his medallion belt and my ring. My last significant prayer was Daenerys surviving her fear after giving birth. The gods have answered so many of my prayers. Not all prayers can be heard, but as of late, I know they are listening.

Now I pray my army and Ser Jorah are safe during the sacking of Yunkai. We are putting a lot of trust into Daario Naharis in making this a quick battle.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy,

Save our sons from war, we pray.

Stay the swords and stay the arrows,

Let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, the strength of women,

Help our daughters through this fray.

Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,

Teach us all a kinder way…

I whispered this hymn. I know the hymn is about praying to the Mother for Her protection during the war, urging that the Mother stop all the fighting. My Unsullied know they can only kill those who dare attack them. Not to harm the elderly, women, and children. I want to show the world, that a war can be one without killing everyone.

"We've been waiting a long time," Daenerys said impatiently.

Ser Barristan gave her an amused look.

"Haven't we?" She asked.

Ser Barristan shrugged.

"I don't know, you tell me. How long does it take to sack a city?" she asked.

"It can take hours to even days," Ser Barristan said. "Depends on the enemy."

"If we were going the traditional way, it would be a week," I guessed. "Let's hope Daario is right about the back gate."

Another hour went when footsteps caught out attention at the entrance. Jorah and Grey Worm arrived covered in blood. I couldn't see any severe wounds on them, thus concluding it was their opponents' blood. Both men appeared exhausted, yet relieve and proud at the same time. One person was missing; however, Daario Naharis. Either the man died in battle or Jorah killed him because he was a traitor. I walked over halfway facing them.

"It was just as you said," Ser Jorah spoke. "They did not believe until it was too late. Their slave soldiers threw down their spears and surrendered."

I sighed in relief and smile, "Excellent."

Daenerys came over standing next to me, "And Daario Naharis?"

Jorah and Grey Worm's proud face dropped. Speaking of the devil, Daario walked over to hold a banner covered in blood. The Tyroshi knelt before us, presenting the flag of Yunkai as the intricate embroidery of the harpy on a white field stained in blood.

"The city is yours, my queen."

I nodded. Two cities down and one to go.

**.o0o.**

The next morning, the Unsullied and the Council stood in front of the gates of Yunkai. During the sacking, the slave soldiers dropped their swords and told the slaves they have a choice. To live as free men or forced to be taken. They have until morning to decide. Standing on layer boulders with my councils as the dragon stood in front of us chirping. We waited patiently, wondering if the people had made their choice.

"They will come, your grace," Ser Barristan assured. "When they're ready."

"Perhaps they didn't want to be conquered," Daenerys mumbled.

"You didn't conquer them," Ser Jorah corrected. "You liberated them."

"People learn to love their chains," Daenerys added.

"Patience, my dear sister," I said. "After years of being enslaved it takes a moment to realize they are free."

The main gates open as the slaves of Yunkai came out along with the lower class of Yunkish citizens who were treated as low as the slaves. Hundreds, if not thousands of people came out. So many men, women, and children that I wonder if all two-hundred-thousand were coming to see me. All coming close, until some were to close that the Unsullied drew a barrier as a precaution. Once all who attended came out, Missandei stepped forward speaking Valyrian.

"_This is Alysanne Targaryen, Breaker of Chains, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and Dragoness of the West. And her Sister, Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and Mother of Dragons. It is they you owe your freedom._ "

"No," I told Missandei. I stepped forward addressing them. "_You do not owe me your freedom. I cannot give it to you. Your freedom is not mine to give. It belongs to you and you alone. If you want it back, you must take it for yourselves. Each and every one of you. The choice is finally yours."_

Silence engrossed the field. Only the sound of the wind as the people comprehend what has been spoken. They were free, and they can live their lives in the ways they wanted to. Be reunited with their loved ones, be a family one more. Couples denied love can have that. Children seeing their mother's face. No longer with the bed slaves and others lay on their back as the Wise Masters consumes their flesh. No longer will women be forced to dance provocatively to be the Wise Masters' source of entertainment. No longer do men have to labor away fearing if their loved ones are alive or barring an unwanted child.

"_**Mhysa!"**_ a man yelled. "_**Mhysa!**_"

Suddenly many more were shouting the word Mhysa! Not long after, they were all saying Mhysa. The word was in a language I did not know of. Not Dothraki, high and low Valyrian, or common tongue. I looked at Missandei to translate the word.

"Why does it mean?" I asked.

"It is old Ghiscari, your grace," Missandei answered. "It means "mother.""

"Mother," I whispered.

Remembering last night, I prayed to the Mother to protect my army. To protect the people, I care for. _Gentle Mother, font of mercy…_ I know I am not a mother. There was an opportunity that I could have been if Viserys didn't terminate the pregnancy. And yet, these people saw me as a mother to them. The people started moving closers that the Unsullied drew their spear.

"It's alright," I murmured. "These people won't hurt us."

Daenerys jumped down to the dragons and knelt before them. She petted Drogon and Rhaegal head murmuring the dragon riders' words, "_sōves_." Which means to fly. Drogon and Rhaegal took to the sky. Viserion turned his head looking at me for consent. I nodded which my gold dragon went to join his brother.

Jorah offered his hand, to which I accepted and climbed down the boulders. Daenerys gave me a smile, "This is your victory. Not mine."

I smiled softly and thanked her, before passing through my guards and made my way into the free folk. The first person I came to was an elderly woman, as she took my hands and kissed it. I accepted her gesture and brought her hands to my lips giving it a kiss. Next, I walk through the crowd. Some patting my back and others running their fingers through my hair. All still chanting, "Mhysa!"

When I reached the center, I saw a man holding a little girl. She reached out saying Mhysa. I smiled coming over taking her hand. She smiled entwining her fingers. The man who held her smile, as he bobbed his head in gratitude in saving his daughter or sister the potential threat of being a bed slave. I peck the girl's hand praying she will no longer fear her future or experience suffering again.

Out of nowhere, I felt warms wrapped around my legs. I tensed at first until thrust into the air and hands supported me to be seen by everyone.

_Well done,_ Visenya's voice echoed. _A true queen in the making._

I couldn't help but smile.

* * *

**Sorry if Season three seems short. I doubt Daenerys did a year of attacking Astapor and Yunkai. I felt the Daenerys story line was done in a month, compare to what the Show did. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	24. Chapter 24: The Bear and the Maiden Fair

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content**_

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Bear and the Maiden Fair**

The Wise Masters surrendered when I entered the city and met with the head of the Master Family in the golden pyramid of Qaggaz. Although, some Master families escaped during the siege by ship. Some have sent sail to Volantis. One, in particular, was Razdal mo Eraz who fled. Abandoning his father Grazdan mo Eraz speaking of his surrounded along with other. I know I have my work cut out before me in establishing order in a council for Yunkai. The Slaves were free, many will leave with food, clothes, property, and money that they can carry. However, there are others who are unable to leave not sure where to go. So, I will make sure they receive the property that the Masters own.

Actually, Daenerys took that responsibility. Just as she did in Astapor, she establishes hostels and galley for the liberated slaves to attend too until arrangements are made. If we to free the slaves, trust the Masters on their word, and just left, no doubt there be fingers cross and the Masters go back to their practice. Therefore, we must ensure that the Valyrian Freehold standards are back in orders. If there must be a labor of work, then there must be compensation like any trade.

After a long day of meeting the Wise Masters, had stressed me to the point of exhaustion. I have met stubborn people before. But between the Dothraki, Qaathi, and Astapori, the Yunkish are by far the most arrogant and stubbornness people in the world. The Good Masters, they don't hold back on their character, insult you as is and yet can waver like any businessman. The Wise Masters, they were corrupted, they can smile at you and spin an insult that sounded like a compliment.

So, when dinner was over, I went to my temporary chambers to rest. I consider taking a bath, but since it was late, I did not want to disturb the servants here. Apparently, slaves were not worthy in working inside the pyramid, so the servants of lower born maintain the pyramid with pay and accommodation. Although, there was much caution as the Unsullied guarded the area preventing an assassination attempt.

Once in my chambers, I walked over to the window glancing out to the viewer seeing the torches lit. The past view nights, I managed to observe the sunset. Only tonight I missed it. Seeing the sun setting to the west providing day to Westeros. On the other side of the world was home. A continent at risk of an unknown threat far greater than who sits on the Iron Throne. I won't lie, a part of me wants to claim the Iron Throne for it was my birthright. For I have a claimant, as does any Noble House with King's Blood. But it is not because of power. No, there is a sentimental purpose of my ancestors where great kings once sat. Another thing was, it was my duty and obligation to protect the realm.

King Aegon the Fifth, my great grandfather, had work hard to establish the Targaryen Dynasty. He was a benevolent ruler. The people loved him because he spent his youth as a squire for Ser Duncan the Tall. He tried to make reforms, granting of rights and protection for the smallfolk. Yes, his reign was filled with many uprisings, yet he put his efforts for the people. The only mistake Aegon the fifth had was trying to bring dragons back. I want to be a good ruler; I don't want to please the lords of Westeros. I want to please the people. The people who provide the labors of food, animals, and construction. My years in exiled showed me what the world does to the lower class, and I don't want the Westeros to feel that.

Sighing, I removed my jewelry, freeing my hair, and changed into my nightgown and robe. Not feeling tired, I sat on the window ledge with a glass of wine watching the view. A slight celebration could be heard from the free folk. Right now, my campaign will stay here for a month or so to secure the Yunkish politics before leaving for Meereen. From what has been said about Meereen, is that they are more stubborn than a mule.

Along with their turning of succession. Based on the information provided, the Great Masters switch families on ruling the city. No one is a king for long, but the dominant Master. Still, from what I heard there are a million slaves there of different trades most consisted of labor.

I know I never had an actual experience of being a slave. But a part of me I felt like I was when Ser Willem died. Always moved about, never knowing what home was. And when Viserys raped me and forced me to marry him, I felt like a bed slave. Regularly abused and tormented in order to protect Dany. Even Viserys said he will let forty-thousand men and their horses fuck me if it got him an army. Now those changes to that monster are gone. Chains…I want to remove from others as well. However, this was dangerous campaign. One wrong move and the liberation will fall back into slavery.

I sighed, thinking about a poem.

"They held each other close and turned their backs upon the end.

The hills that split asunder and the black that ate the skies;

The flames that shot so high and hot that even dragons burned;

Would never be the final sights that fell upon their eyes.

A fly upon a wall, the waves the sea wind whipped and churned –

The city of a thousand years and all that men had learned;

The Doom consumed it all alike, and neither of them turned."

"The Doom of Valyria," a voice said.

I snapped out of my trance to see Ser Jorah standing there. "You startled me."

"Forgive me," Jorah said. "I knocked and heard no response. Daenerys told me I should come in anyway."

Lately, I'm starting to notice a habit of Daenerys sending Jorah to my quarters or tent. As much as I enjoy Ser Jorah's company and care for him genuinely, there are times the Mother of Dragons gets involved. If I didn't know any better, I assumed my sister is trying to play matchmaker. Sadly, there won't be a need for that since Jorah and I are aware of our feeling.

"If you want me to leave, I shall," he offered.

"No, you can stay and share a glass of wine with me," I said, standing up and walked over to the table to pour him some wine. "Don't worry, it's our wine."

Ser Jorah nodded, understanding the precaution in drinking wine or other liquids since Vaes Dothrak. Even if Robert Baratheon was dead, what are the chances Joffrey Baratheon or his Small Council is still sending assassins or the offer going? Let alone, I sacked Yunkai and Astapor. If the Wise Masters are petty, what are the chances are they will try to kill me. When Jorah got his wine, we headed to the balcony getting a view of the city.

"Any reports?" I asked.

"A few," Jorah answered. "Several Masters family are not complying the new laws of freeing the slaves and their compensation."

"Well then, we shall pay them a visit tomorrow," I said. "They can either live in the new world, or they can leave Slaver's Bay with the property they can carry."

Jorah nodded taking a sip of the wine, "Your Sister with the help of Missandei has got the hostels arranged. She seems to enjoy charity work."

"She does have a gentle heart once she sees it," I agreed.

"You worry of her?" he asked.

"She is a Khaleesi of a small Khalasar, and I think her experience of power with Drogo has made her forget on occasion of who sits on the Iron Throne," I answered. "Also…the possibility lurking of madness to stir."

"Alysanne, from what I have seen, you and Daenerys show no signs of madness," he assured.

"That's the thing, it may come since birth or later in life," I said, of this repeated discussion. "My father didn't go mad until he was twenty."

Jorah sighed, knowing I had a point there.

"Either way, I have to keep an eye on her. She is my heir unless I have a child in the future," I said.

Jorah took a large sip of wine from that masking his face from the golden goblet. A House needs an heir, I am that heir and Daenerys is a spare. We are the last of the Targaryens in name and blood. Sadly, if I were to have a child without marriage, the bloodline will continue, but the child will be considered a bastard by the other houses. If my child was conceived through marriage, then he or she will inherit their father's name. There have been rare occurrences if the husband renounces their name to keep another house that is near extinction. However, as history recalls kings can legitimize their bastards. Either way, I need to secure a dynasty when we sail back to Westeros. No doubt, once I take the Iron Throne Houses will try to offer marriages. But I will not follow traditions. As traditions are the ones that almost killed me.

Seeing Jorah, a bit uncomfortable of the subject, I changed it, "Any other reports."

"None, Grey Worm and the Unsullied have secured the city. Guards have been doubled in preventing any intruders, and your sister is secured." He said.

"Secured enough to keep Daario away?" I asked.

"I believe so," Jorah muttered.

"He did help up win Yunkai," I sighed taking another sip of wine. "However, I don't like his open infatuation on my sister. It's barely been six months since Drogo's death, and she is still recovering from her post-pregnancy."

I tried to suppress the memory of Rhaego being stuck, and the midwife told me to stick my hand inside Daenerys vagina in order to get him out. There was stitching involved, far severe than the standard delivery. One that will take more than three months to heal from.

"Don't forget, he killed his commanding officers," Jorah added. "What are the chances he will betray us to earn more gold."

"That is why he is not part of my council and will have to earn his way up," I said. "You and Ser Barristan earned your place. Grey Worm is my commander. Missandei is my translator and informer. I still find it strange that a Tyroshi would be out this far east."

"Aye," Jorah agreed.

We continue to drink our wine enjoying each other's company. As time went on, Ser Jorah shared some of the stories from his past. Telling his adventures in Essos, from Volantis and other Free Cities, as he travels far East as Vaes Dothrak. As he talked, hearing his stories, I stared at him, seeing his physical form. A man who was nearly twenty years older than me. Hair fair and fine, as it matched the slight beard that was growing into stubbles, but still strong and fit. He was tall and muscular than most men his age, after many years as a knight and a sellsword. His tunic slightly open showing bits of hair on his chest, along with scars. One scar that stood out the most was the one on his neck. The recent scar from his duel against Qotho. He took the risk to prevent the blood rider from disturbing the blood magic being performed by Mirri Maz Duur. Although he was against witchcraft, the risk of the dark arts unleash upon the khalasar was a dangerous. This past year he has done so much for Daenerys and I. Guiding us, protecting us, and serving us.

During our drinking, I asked Jorah to sing me a song from Westeros. He was a bit nervous until he softly sang T_he Bear and the Maiden Fair_:

_A bear there was, a bear, a bear!_

_All black and brown, and covered with hair._

_The bear! The bear!_

_Oh, come they said, oh come to the fair!_

_The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!_

_All black and brown, and covered with hair!_

_And down the road from here to there._

_From here! To there!_

_Three boys, a goat and a dancing bear!_

_They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!_

_The fair! The fair!_

_Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!_

_The maid with honey in her hair!_

_Her hair! Her hair!_

_The maid with honey in her hair!_

_The bear smelled the scent on the summer air._

_The bear! The bear!_

_All black and brown and covered with hair!_

_He smelled the scent on the summer air!_

_He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!_

_Honey on the summer air!_

Even his voice has captivated me. A crisp raspy voice with a northern accent. For some unknown reason, I felt attracted to him. In the beginning, my attraction was towards his behavior, character, and merit since joining us as our companion. Now seeing him without severe survival situations and without his armor…was a significant difference.

Jorah finished the song along with the goblet and sighed, "It's getting late, Alysanne. I shall let you go and rest."

I snapped out of my trance, "Oh, is it that late?"

"It appears so," Jorah replied. "Unless you want me to stay a bit longer."

I tried not to blush. The wine is getting to me. "If you need to rest, you are free to go."

We stood up, as I escorted Ser Jorah to the door. He stopped and turned around facing me. The awkwardness returning, since a few days ago I kissed him. As a token of my affection.

"Well, good night, Alysanne," Jorah said.

"Good night, Jorah," I replied back, leaning up and giving him a kiss. Not a peck but a kiss.

When I pulled back his blue eyes widen once more not expecting it. I chuckled slightly seeing the power I have over him. However, I did not expect him to cradle my cheek and looked me in the eyes filled with much emotion. Not long after, he leaned down and kissed me. The tickle of his beard tempted me to dash my tongue along his lips. Tiny hairs pricked teased at my skin. Warmth suffused my senses as the tender contact thrilled through my system. Shiver bumps coursed my arms.

It happened so fast, as my arms wrapped around his neck while his hands went to my waist. The pressure of his hands finding my hips urged me to make the kiss firmer. I closed my eyes and sank into him. His solid broad chest clashed against my own. One of his hands slid up my back and eased me against his body. His tongue dashed along mine asking permission. I gasped slightly opening my mouth granting access as he slid his tongue.

I felt like I was losing myself in him. Strip away my clothes and inhale his heat into my skin. His kisses were not forceful; the presence I could not deny. Jorah's kisses showed me he takes what he wanted yet to return with equal measure. He was a man. He was not Viserys, not my brother that I did not feel disgusted. Other than wine, there were no tricks in potions or opioids. When we pulled back to breathe, I stared into his blue eyes filled with longing. His right-hand cradles my cheek again, his thumb strokes my jaw as he waited for me to respond.

Are we rushing things? Seriously, I don't know the proper ways of courtship. All I knew of romance was through songs and literature. Seeing it from afar but never in person. Spending five years as a sister-wife and denying myself a romantic connection with Viserys after he struck me. And yet, I was not in Viserys's arms. No, I was in the arms of Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. A man who went through the same struggles as I. Those blue eyes filled with emotion, having feelings for me. I don't know why he would be interested in me. I was a Targaryen, an nth generation of incest. Trapped under the shadows of my father, the Mad King. I committed sins that go against the old and new religions.

"Alysanne," he whispered.

My heart raced, hearing how my name falls off his lips. Warmth consuming my veins and want. The decision has to be made. Do I end the night as a passionate kiss and take our time or be selfish and take this night? Jorah was allowing me to decide if we continue or stop. He was not forcing me or pressuring me. I know the proper way is to stop and take our time to build an emotional connection. At the same time, my campaign could kill us any day. Should I do the right thing or be selfish. I already took the elixir from Lys, let alone conception was difficult for me.

"Stay," I mumbled.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded, for I was sure. I want to feel alive even if it's just for a moment. To feel a man who was not of blood. The unknown of death is inevitable, and I don't want the Stranger to come and take me while the man I slept with was Viserys. Jorah looked into my indigo eyes seeing the lust and care. He nodded and did something I did not expect, as he picked me up and carried me to the bed. He laid me on the bed and crawled over my body. I pushed his shoulders down, turning him onto his back and climbed over him. I worked on the fasting of his kilt and tossed it aside. Next coming up, untying his shift and glided my fingers over his chest. The short fine hairs were soft and fair, but that didn't disguise the hard muscles that pulsed with his movement. Seeing all covered in scars here and there.

I leaned down and kissed his chest. Jorah propped on his elbows and kicked off his boots. Not long after, pulled me up to a kiss. His tongue dashed across my lips, and I followed, pressing my mouth to his and our tongues dancing. He only tasted of wine. Lost to his lips, as his fingers ran over my arms and shoulders, where he clutched my hair beside my jaw and held me against his deep and lingering kiss. The command of him deepened my desires and melted my defenses. I straddle his hips, pulling back to breathe, Jorah unfastened the robe revealing the slip I wore. Next, his hand went to the hem of the gown.

"May I?" He asked.

I felt warmth in my cheeks from blushing and nodded. Lifting the skirt up, until over my chest and off. I straddle him naked. Only to feel uncomfortable wondering what he would think. I wasn't curvaceous, basically thin as the area of bones stick out from the long travels and rations. Jorah didn't seem to see it that way, as his eyes linger on my body.

"I know it is not much," I mumbled. "Probably had better women…"

"None as beautiful as you," he murmured, as he finished taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. Revealing more scars on his arms. He took my hands, and together we removed his pants, exposing the landscape of his lower abdomen and a thick tuft of coarse hair. Unable to resist, I gazed at his member seeing his size and blush deepen. It was big. Bigger than Viserys. There was a saying a Northman was endowed than the south. I questioned if that was going to fit.

Suddenly, with his arm around my waist, he turned us around, so he was on top. I chuckled slightly, not expecting as I laid there wondering what he will do. Bowing his head, he kissed the top of the scar and then glanced up at me when I gasped. Nervous I was, to be with another man in premarital sex. Afraid I would not satisfy him. Jorah seemed to disagree, as he leaned back down and started kissing my breast while a hand gently cupped the other. The knight kisses my breasts with licks and gentle nibbles and when he took a nipple in a suckling squeeze, I moaned, digging my fingers into the sheets. His other hand clasped the finger pinching it. He sucked the nipple and pinched gently then none-to-gently causing to me gasp and arched up. When he pulled back, I open my eyes thinking he was going to go to the next step, except he switched giving the same treatment. The tickles of his scruffs intensified every touch, coursing shivers through my spine. As he did this, I felt something hard pressed against my thighs.

And when he slid his hand down my stomach, over the hairless mons, his finger slicked across my swollen clit causing me to jerk. Until he slid his finger inside me. I gasped, since his finger was big, along with realizing I was aroused and wet. Jorah soon pulled back from my breast, kissing his way down my stomach as his hand felt my body. Lower he went as he moved one of my legs.

"What are y- "I couldn't finished, shock by the sensation as he parted my folds with his tongue. Skating his tongue upward, he circled it around my swollen clit. A moan escaped, falling back to the pillow closing my eyes of this act. He sucked the tender bud while his fingers moved inside me. Not able to control my hips as they rocked against him and fingers clenching the sheets. So new to this causing me to squirm. Not long after he added another finger, increasing the pace, yet gentle stroke. Pumping his fingers as if it were his member and licked my clit. My thigh squeezed his head, and heels slid and gripped the bed toes curling. With a twist of his finger, something snapped sending me over the edge in euphoric bliss.

Body tensed slowly recovering, as I panted covered in sweat from his lips and tongue on my core. Jorah pulled back, as he leaned up and cradle my cheek. I open my eyes staring into his blue orbs. To climax like that…by his finger and tongue was different. I can't remember the last time I came like that or even if I did. And yet, he did that after the first try.

"Do I have your consent?" He asked.

I smiled softly appreciating that he was asking for consent. Viserys wouldn't ask, he would take and not have care except for his release. Still, out of breath, I nodded giving him my consent. Jorah gave a small smile, as he got into position, between my legs. Taking hold of his member, he nudged it against my entrance and guided himself inside me very slowly. A gasp escaped my lips while he groaned, bowing his head. My walls adjusted to his size, feeling the tension, after a year of no intrusion. After a moment, he thrust slowly, testing the waters. I moaned wrapping my arms around him bringing him close, feeling all of him inside and out. Jorah pushed deeply, slowly, gliding in and out of me. Causing me to dig my nails into his back and moaned.

Jorah took this as a good sign as he thrust deep. Pumping faster as the bear took hold as an animal in heat. Not long after, he took my leg wrapping around his waist changing the angle that causes him to strike something that sent a wave of pleasure through me. His name leaving my lips. I was so astonished, feelings things I haven't felt before. Opening my eyes seeing Jorah eyes filled with determination, jaws clenched, while groans and grunts slip his lips. I pulled him down for a kiss consuming his breath.

Time seemed to vanish until his fingers slid between us and took my clit tweaking it. I cried out, which he silences with his lips as my body tensed coming again. My walls clamp around his member, while I arched into his form, breast pressed against his chest. Lost in the sensation, hearing Jorah groaned as his thrust became erratic, pounding his way. His member grew in twitched when suddenly he pulled out and came. Jorah collapsed on top of me, panting as he fell limp.

I panted, recovering from my orgasm while keeping him close as a shield. I was overwhelmed, never feeling like this. Feeling satisfied and not falling into the sunken place. Not denying myself pleasure. Finally, able to enjoy the act of sex and not feeling disgusted by it. Jorah adjusted himself, rolling off me and panted. I turned facing him, seeing sweat coating his skin. Then again, we were both soaking wet from the climate and the act itself.

"Jorah," I breathed.

He stared at me a bit cautious not sure what I was going to say.

I smiled softly scooting closer and pecked him on the lip, "Thank you."

A smile lifted his lips, "My Queen."

"My bear," I replied back.

We both chuckled slightly then sighed exhaustively in what we did. I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his chest.

Jorah did the same as sleep took hold of us.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah is woken up when the sun touched his eyes. Giving a slight yawned, he opens them turning some to see he was not in his chamber but lying next to his queen. Alysanne was asleep, her back turned to him as he got a view of her long hair. Jorah traced the strand seeing the natural curls not being confined in braids. Noting, the shade was not the usual Targaryen silver-gold, but more of a gold and white. Another thing he noticed along her neck he saw a scar. A sliver of white on her fair skin.

The exile knight thought about the discussion on where she got it. Where an assassin in during her youth attempted to slit her throat from ear to ear. A frown formed, wondering how many times Alysanne suffered in King Roberts fury. But he remembers that his queen is strong. No matter how much she endured, she would get back up and stand her ground.

It surprised him that Alysanne let him in her bed last night. He was aware Alysanne cared about him deeply. When she kissed him in his tent before the sacking and their interactions in conversation. But never in his life, he would think that this young queen would hold interest in him. He was older than her, roughly twenty years older, but that didn't seem to bother her. Seeing she is one about character than appearance. So, he put his experience in pleasing her. Growing up on the philosophy that a woman should come twice before his own. Although, he must confess she had endurance. At first, Alysanne was nervous, which Jorah assumed she expects him to take her there. Yet the exiled knight made sure to remind her he was not Viserys. Showing pleasure from his encounters over the years in pleasing a woman.

All Jorah could do was be thankful to lay here with Alysanne in his arms. Deep down he knows he is not a perfect suitor for her. He was not from a Great House, he committed a crime, and killed many people as a sellsword. He currently has no lands or riches, since declining his pardon.

_Will you betray her again, Jorah the Andal? Will you betray her again_? Quaithe voice whispered in his head from a memory.

_Never_, Jorah thought.

Even though he has betrayed the Targaryen siblings since arriving in Pentos. Spying on them, reporting it to Varys's little birds in the hope any news can bring him home. His act of betrayal was telling Varys spy in Qohor about Daenerys Pregnancy. He prays his past doesn't come back and bite him for it. Alysanne was worth everything. A leader with a gentle heart, filled with determination and honor. Unlike Viserys who talked about the Iron Throne, Alysanne took her campaign for freeing the people, thinking what is best in the sake of humanity. When she took the whip from Kraznys and command the Unsullied to attack the Masters at the same time showed mercy…shows a true ruler.

If he were to die, he would die for her.

Alysanne stirred as she stretched waking from her slumber. She sat up, causing her mane to cover her body while stretching causing a slight crack. Not long after she turned facing him, surprised then smile.

"You stayed," She said.

"Aye, I did," he murmured.

A small smile lifted her lips as she leaned down and kissed him. Jorah savors the kiss. Taking as much as he can before they leave this room. When they leave, they will be Queen and General. As Jorah knew his lover wasn't very open in the public view. He loved her, and he knew she cares for him. Hoping those feelings will grow.

* * *

**So in this version Jorah is in his forties not fifties. Jorah is more TV series than Book version. So yeah, just wanted to pointed it out. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	25. Chapter 25: The Trail of Innocence

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**Languages:**

_Dothraki_

_Valyrian_

Common Tongue

_**Old Ghiscari**_

* * *

**Chapter 25: The Trail of Innocence**

_Alysanne's POV_

Two months. I repeat, it took two months to establish order in Yunkai. Not because of the 200,000 slaves to be compensated for their servitude and reuniting families, but because the Wise Masters were stubborn. There were moments I was tempted to get Viserion into the conference meetings as an act of intimidation. However, Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah convince me not to. Mainly because it would ruin my reputation of being human even if Viserion just sat there eating a goat.

I must confess, I am thankful to have Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah in these negotiations. Although politics were not their strongest suit, they prevented any ideas that may portray me as my father. I will answer justice with justice, but not all punishments mean death. The Wise Masters did not mutilate their slaves, castrating their slave soldiers, and force them to murder children. No, they make a profit from a slave's entire body in pleasure. So, their punishment did not cost them their life. However, the temptation to kill one for their lofty attitude will be kept as imagination when disrespected in their insult glamour in compliments. Spent much time with magisters to learn their ways in speech. Silently insulting someone within a compliment. I may be a woman, but I am not naïve.

During those two months, Daenerys has done excellent work in helping the liberated slaves to get their compensation and security in the hostels. Each wise master did not need twenty establishments. So, taking some to convert into homes for families and shelters for women and children. Making sure that each person has their inheritance. I was proud of my sister, seeing that putting yourself with the people shows growth. As the people were calling her Sister in old Ghiscari. If only Daario can stop flirting with my sister. I found it a bit annoying.

Another thing that has happened is my relationship with Jorah. Out in public, Jorah was my advisor, general, and mentor. But inside in private, he was my lover. Once every third day, he was in my chamber. Sometimes, we would sit on the balcony, and other nights we get intimate. Jorah showed me how to feel love, his experience proved that, that I don't think I had a night not satisfied or let my mind fall into the sunken place. His touches riled my senses. What made things better was that he pulls out, preventing the risk of conception. Even though I was on the Lys potion, the fact he does this secures the respect. Making fall for him more.

Now that Yunkai was settle, creating a council between the wise and elected members for the city. My armies and I took off for Meereen. It was a week's journey on foot. However, due to the increase of my troops the estimation upon arrival may take twos week. Doesn't matter, once we get to Meereen, it will be time to face the Great Masters. Learning that Meereen is where the capture slaves go from pirates around the world after reaching the rich cities. Before we left, I collected the collars to return them back to their owner. One the Meereeneze will never forget.

We were at the halfway mark, having made camp to rest for a few days. During that time of preparation and training. As Jorah and Ser Barristan continue their lessons. Two hours in the morning and one hour at night. Slightly getting better, however not experience enough to unarm the two knights. There are times, they would act on the performance of a soldier or guards' level. Which I was capable of unarming. Although, they kept reminding me, that there will be a time an opponent cannot be a prisoner and to take a life. Even though they taught me where to strike that causes an opponent reflects on dropping their sword and collapsed, they also demonstrate the vital points. Especially in areas where armor is less likely to cover.

After a long morning of training, Missandei came forward announcing the army is ready for departure. I thank her, excusing myself and went to find Daenerys. Jorah accompanies me, as we made our way to the cliffs. Daenerys sat on a boulder petting Drogon while Viserion and Rhaegal were playing over the ocean. No longer were the dragons the size of dogs. No, they have gotten bigger. One would say the size of ponies. Not big enough to ride through, but they can inflict damage. Haven't forgotten the time Viserion tried to land on me. Left a nasty bruise on my back. When the dragon saw that he hurt his rider, he stopped realizing he was too big. Although, it doesn't stop him from landing next to me wanting to be petted and snuggle.

Rhaegal and Viserion return to shore, fighting over a lamb they caught. In the confrontation, the lamb slipped from their clutches and dropped in front of Daenerys. She jumped, not expecting it then sighed. The two troublemakers landed sharing their meal. Drogon leaned over trying to get a bite. Surprising how Drogon as grown. Daenerys leaned over to pet Drogon, but the dragon snapped at her with a warning growl. Luckily Daenerys pulled back making space, a bit terrified in what happened.

I frowned wondering what that was. In books and legends, when a dragon bonds with their rider they are connected. No longer is the dragon feral. There was also another legend that the dragon inherits the rider's persona. Viserion has been protective, the same as I am with a slight sense of humor. Drogon on the other hand…though calm has been a bit aggressive and impulsive. Disappearing a lot for his hunts. Which doesn't resemble Daenerys? The one who should be acting up is Rhaegal, and the green dragon seems mellow than the black dragon. In the end, they are animals. They can be domesticated one minute and wild the next.

"They're dragons, Khaleesi," Jorah reminded. "They can never be tamed. Not even by their mother."

"We cannot rely on legends," I added. "They can deny or accept us. They make the decisions."

Daenerys sighed, "I know."

We watched the three break the lamb into thirds before feasting on it in the skies. We need to be careful. Although our dragons can obey some of the dragon rider commands, and understand our emotions, they are unpredictable.

Not long after, we made our way back to camp finding the Unsullied at attention ready to lead the march to Yunkai. Ser Barristan stood there along with Missandei at the front line. Although, it was noticeable to see a few people were absent.

"Ser Barristan," I greeted.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan replied with a nod.

"Where's Daario Naharis?" Daenerys asked. "Where's Grey Worm?"

Missandei looked down trying to express some positive emotion. It was Ser Barristan who gave an amused answer, "Gambling, Your Highness."

"Gambling?" Daenerys and I repeated.

_How can they be gambling?_ I thought.

Yes, each of the Unsullied has a coin purse with gold that provides enough for necessities if they were separated from the group or wish to purchase items as property. But the Unsullied are not like the Sellswords or other armies. I thought their personality is limited in being control into submission. So, to hear that Grey Worm was gambling with Daario Naharis has me concern. I don't take him as a man who spoils his wages.

"And where are they at?" I asked.

"With the volunteers, Your Grace," Missandei answered.

At the end of the line. I took a deep breath, marching down the aisle passing the ten thousand soldiers. Not long after passing the two thousand second sons were waiting casually on their horses, securing the volunteers. The volunteers were kept in the back since they are the ones transporting the supplies, if there were to be a battle out of nowhere, I did not want them to be harm. Going through the camp, the crowd greeted us, children waving saying Mhysa and Sister. Daenerys and I smiled, waving to some, though I was determined to find the two culprits.

Out in a field, we found Grey Worm and Daario Naharis. Both were sitting on the ground facing each other legs cross. Their arms out forward balancing their weapons. As Grey Worm balance his shortsword while Daario with his Arakh. The past few months they've changed, as Grey Worm gain more muscle from a better diet I created, and on his black armor, he had a pin of three dragons forming a circle indicating his rank as commander. Daario, on the other hand, made a drastic change in his appearance. Cutting his long hair short reaching his chin and growing a beard.

"How long have they been at it?" I asked.

"Since Midnight, Your Grace," Missandei answered.

We soon stood before them.

"Ser Worm is stronger than he looks," Daario murmured. "But I can see his arms beginning to shake."

"What's the prize to winning this stupid contest?" Daenerys asked.

"The honor of riding by your side on the road to Meereen," Daario answered, winking at Daenerys.

They spent since midnight gambling on who would ride beside us? Basically, they wasted time on resting and preparation for a spot on a long journey ahead. I thought I had acquired two skilled warriors, not two adolescents who are trying to earn a maiden's favor. Not pleased by this, I will remind them how serious I am about the wellbeing of my army and the volunteers' safety.

"That honor goes to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, as neither of them kept us waiting this morning," I said. "You two will ride in the read guard and protect the livestock." I turned to leave, yet through my peripheral vision, I still see them gambling. "The last man holding his sword can find a new queen to fight for."

Immediately they dropped their blades. Grey Worm gave an apologetic look, though Missandei gave him a glance. Daenerys tried not to smile, though amused by this before all three us ladies return to the front. We are behind schedule. The longer we wait, the chances are of people are being enslaved.

**.o0o.**

_Grey Worm's POV_

Grey Worm glanced at his Queen giving an apologetic look and then at Missandei. He found the translator very pretty, although he did not know how to approach her. During their times at camp, Missandei tutors him on Common tongue when not translating his lessons with Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan on leadership. If not the fact that he was cut and could perform as normally as most men. Suppressing a sigh, he stood up securing his blade to his belt. Daario stood up with a groan., though gave Grey Worm a knowing look.

"_You like this girl?"_ Daario asked.

Grey Worm expressed a warning look.

"_Must be frustrating,"_ Daario teased.

"_You are not a smart man, Daario Naharis,"_ Grey Worm said.

Daario shrugged, "_I'd rather have no brains and two balls_."

Adding to insult by grabbing his own.

Grey Worm scowled at him. For the Unsullied to be castrated meant losing their testicles. The Master believes removing the testicles prevents the concept of breeding and reduces the desires for sex to near nonexistent. They have their penis, allowing themselves to urinate. In other words, they are unable to perform.

Sometimes Grey Worm wonders why the Dragon Sisters let Daario Naharis join their company. The man does not fight with honor or discipline. Let alone, wonders why he let himself be persuaded in gambling to ride beside them. He had a good position in the ranks to be close to his Queen, to be near Missandei. Now he was stuck on guard duty on the livestock until earning his queen's forgiveness.

.**o0o**.

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys stopped to give her horse a break as she stood by the cliffs having a view of the ocean. It was a lovely day, not too hot as the Yunkai region. The winds blew softly to ease the heat. Her thoughts wonder about Meereen, wondering what kind of city it would be? Astapor was brutal, Yunkai was stubborn, so what will Meereen portray as.

"Have you ever been to Meereen?" Daenerys asked Missandei.

"Several times, Your Highness, with Master Kraznys," Missandei answered.

"And?" Daenerys asked.

"They say 1,000 slaves died building the Great Pyramid of Meereen," Missandei answered a bit of bitterness in her voice.

"And now an army of former slaves is marching to her gates," Daenerys murmured, looking at her new friend. "You think the Great Masters are worried?"

"If they're smart, Your Highness," Missandei replied.

They heard footsteps, looking to see they had company. It was Daario. Daenerys sighed since she made it clear that she was not interested in him. Although she finds his remarks amusing and flattered by his compliments, she still has her standards. Not a year yet since her late husband Drogo's death. She doesn't think she is ready for another man.

"You were told to ride at the back of the train," Daenerys reminded.

"Yes, my princess," Daario replied. "But I need to speak to you about something important. A matter of strategy."

"Shouldn't speak about it to my sister?" Daenerys asked.

"I believe Her Grace would have my head if she were to see me now," Daario answered.

Daenerys arched a brow, as Missandei looked at the Mother of Dragons of her decision. The princess nodded, to which Missandei complied leaving the area for the two to speak. Daario was pleased, hiding something behind her back.

"All right, what is this matter of strategy?" Daenerys asked.

Daario presented in what he was hiding behind his back. It appeared to be a blue rose, "A dusk rose."

"Would you like to walk at the back of the train instead of riding?" Daenerys warned, thinking he was wasting her time. As she started walking back to the horses.

"And this one's called Lady's Lace," Daario continued presenting white flowers with white stems.

"Would you like to walk without shoes?" she threatened.

"You have to know the land to rule it," Daario explained. "Its plants, its river, its roads, its people. Dusk rose tea eases fever. Everyone in Meereen knows that. Especially the slaves who have to make the tea. If you want them to follow you, you have to become a part of their world. Strategy."

Daenerys stopped crossing her arms impressed of his knowledge. Not finding him not all bronze and killing. Since this man knows his herbs. Daario then pulled out one more flower, a spikey one of red prickly petals.

"Harpy's Gold. No tea from this one. Beautiful but poisonous." Daario murmured, putting all three flowers together and offer them to her.

"You are a gambler, aren't you?" She murmured, accepting the flowers.

Daario gave a slight bow, "Your Highness."

He then walked away to return to his post. Once his back was turned, Daenerys smiled slightly, for it has been a long time to be given a flower. Suddenly there was a command in Valyrian to stop. All the Unsullied stopped at attention. Curious in what is going on, she got on her horse along with Missandei to join the vanguard.

On their way over the trail became rocking to ride a horse as Daenerys dismounted. She climbed the rigid terrain to join the council seeing Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, and Alysanne. Based on her sisters' posture something was not right. Just as she walked up to stand next to her sister and understand why. There on a post was a dead girl. Daenerys assumed she was only ten years old. The child with brown hair tinted with red, skin grey as she wore a ragged dress and a thick collar. Her position as her left arm was spread out, manipulated to make a pointing gesture. Her right arm nailed to her chest, while her feet nailed to the post. Crucified…just like the slaves in Astapor. Only instead of a man…it was a child.

"There's one on every mile marker between here and Meereen," Jorah assumed.

"How many miles between here and Meereen?" Daenerys asked.

"163, Khaleesi," Jorah answered.

"I'll tell our men to ride ahead and bury them," Ser Barristan offered. "You ladies don't need to see this."

"No, you will do no such thing," Alysanne said, her eyes still focus on the child. "I will see each and every one of their faces. Remove her collar before you bury her. Give her a tombstone so she will never be forgotten."

Daenerys was surprised by her choices. A few Unsullied men came forward, carefully taking the girl down from the post. The council watches as Alysanne came over placing her hand on the girl's forehead and did a prayer. It was not of the Ghiscari religion, but the Dragoness of the West wanted to ensure the child's soul was guided into the next life. Afterward, they continue on every marker. Daenerys watched her sister stare at each child's faces, had them down and gave a prayer. The princess was not one for religion. She tried to be as a child, but she felt like the Gods do not hear. Still, watching Alysanne performing the service, singing the hymn of the Mother's mercy and the Strangers guidance. Two deities that should not be associated together.

This delays their travels, but they reached each marker, Daenerys understand why Alysanne was doing it. So, the children are not forgotten. Remembering Missandei stating that a thousand slaves died building the Great Pyramid. Now 163 children killed for what? An example? To taught them since they have a heart for children.

After the twenty children for the day, Alysanne got up and came over to Daenerys.

"What are you going to do with the Great Masters for this?" Daenerys asked.

"Give justice to the children," Alysanne answered. "An eye for an eye for those who agreed to this horrendous act."

Daenerys nodded as she watched her sisters leaving making way to camp. She followed her sister as the tents were erect and the volunteers cooking food for the army. Just as she went to the royal tent, Daenerys noticed her sister turned going to the next tent over. Ser Jorah's tent. Wondering what is going on, she snuck around and took a peek through the flaps. What she saw made her smile.

Inside Alysanne was hugging Jorah, resting her head on his chest. Jorah kept a protective arm around her while rubbing her back. Along with a kiss on the top of her head. This reminded Daenerys when Drogo was alive and needed a hug. She smiled, glad her sister found someone. Alysanne deserves it. The only downside is that she can no longer play matchmaker.

Daenerys had so many plans in getting those two alone together.

* * *

**I literally had to look up what they mean by castration. So Castration is the individual loses their testicles/testes. Emasculation is the cutting off both penis and testes. Yeah, things I do on my spare time. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	26. Chapter 26: Meereen

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**

**So, I'm going to change the language.**

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

Old Ghiscari

* * *

**Chapter 26: Meereen**

_Alysanne's POV_

The army arrived at the Gates of Meereen in the late afternoon hours. A few hours ago, we stopped to make camp and buried the last child on the 163-mile marker. A little boy who was decomposed, vultures pecking at his flesh. The previous twenty children were badly decomposed barely hanging on the post except for the rope and nails. It broke my heart to see each child who died as an intimidation tactic by the Great Master. I vowed to give those children justice. I will find the Great Masters who agreed in the slaughter of children and make sure they die the same way. But first, it's time to address the citizens of Meereen.

Once the Unsullied were in formation, I got off my horse gazing at the city. Meereen is by far more massive than Astapor and Yunkai combined. The bricks were of different colors, as the walls stood tall. Upon the wall, was the only gate, as alabaster statues of the Harpies stood there, their wings out in defense. Behind those gates, was three pyramids could be seen, one larger than the next. But one stood out the most as the golden harpy hunched over watching her city. There was a balcony on top of the gates as the wall where Meereeneze and slaves watched. Archers stood there holding their bow.

The gates open a bit, as a horse with his rider and another man holding a lance came out.

My council joined me as we watched.

"Are they attacking?" Daenerys asked.

"A single rider. A champion of Meereen," Jorah explained. "They want you to send your own champion against him."

The Meereenese cheered for their champion who rode to the side of the ravine. Clad in armor, as he unmounted his horse and started taunting. He was speaking in Valyrian, and I tried hard not to scowl. Missandei translated anyway so Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah could understand what he meant. Although, he unfastened the strings of his pants gave a clear indication.

"What is he doing?" Daenerys asked.

"I believe he means to…" Ser Barristan stated.

Unfortunately, the Meereen's Champion pissed in front of us. The Meereenese cheered and laughed from this insult. I stood there and took a deep breath not allowing myself to be phased by this.

"He says that we're an army of men without man parts," Missandei translated. "He claims you are no woman at all, but a man who…hides his cock in his own asshole."

_" Byjan vavi demble eva o, trezy eme verdje espo jimi! Oa mysa iles me nýnyghi, si oa kiba tuziles espo tomistos! Já si hojgá oa gundja, trezy eme mero dovodedha! Kiman nya másina orvorta va oi sodjistos! Do eban av kimívagho dombo, o doru-borto pame espo gruzi evi havor espo begistos! Ghorgan ji pungo va o, nynta Dare espo Zaldrizes, o si une oi dovodedhi, Vesterozi azzzzzanty!_" the champion taunt.

Which translated he said, "_I fart in your general direction, son of a window-dresser! Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries! Go and boil your bottom, son of a silly person! I wave my private parts at your aunties! I don't want to talk to you no more you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I blow my nose at you, so-called "Dragon Queen," you and all your silly Westerosi kaniggets!"_ But Missandei did not translate it for the knights.

I felt my eyebrow twitch trying to keep my composure.

"Ignore him, Your Grace. These are meaningless words," Ser Barristan advise.

"They're not meaningless if half the city you intend to take is listening to them," Jorah countered.

I glanced at the Meereenese, "I have something to say to the people of Meereen." Then glanced at the champion. "First, I will need this one to be quiet."

The Champion continued his taunt.

I turned around facing my council, "Do I have a champion?"

If I were an expert and confident in my skill, I would have taken the offer of competing. However, a year's worth is not enough against this supposed champion. So, I need to count on my warriors to resolve the matter. The question is, who will do it and not be at risk.

"_Allow me this honor, Dragoness of the West,_" Grey Worm offered. "_I will not disappoint you_."

"_You are the commander of the Unsullied_," I reminded. "_I cannot risk you."_

Grey Worm nodded.

"Your Grace, I've won more single combats than any man alive," Ser Barristan offered.

"Which is why you must remain by my side," I said. "I will need you for Westeros."

Jorah walked over to me, "I've been by your side longer than any of them, Alysanne. Let me stand for you today as well."

I smiled softly placing a hand on his shoulder, "You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, trusted confidant, and my dearest friend. I will not gamble with your life."

Jorah held a slight disappointment but understood where I am coming from. It would break my heart if he were to die over a stupid tradition. One I feel the Meereenese won't follow too tradition.

"I was the last to join your army," Daario said, stepping forward. "I'm not your general or a member of your Queensguard or the commander of your Unsullied. My mother was a whore. I come from nothing. And before long, I will return to nothing. Let me kill this man for House Targaryen."

"Very well. You have quite an audience." I murmured, then face the Meereenese. "Make it worth their while."

Daenerys and Missandei came over standing beside me.

"He is very brave, Your Grace," Missandei murmured.

"Yes, win or lose, as long as the whole city is watching," I said arms crossed.

The Champion of Meereen got on his horse as his squire gave him the lance with a spear tip. Once he held it, the squire rushed back to the gate. Daario came over to us wiping his stiletto dagger. Daenerys walked over to him.

"You sure you don't want a horse?" Daenerys sarcastically offered.

"Why would I want a horse?" Daario asked.

"Horses are faster than men," Daenerys answered.

"Horses are dumber than men," Daario countered with a smirk.

Daenerys didn't know how to respond to that as she returns to the Council giving distance between the two champions. We watched as Daario stepped forward initiating the duel. The Champion of Meereen charged forward on his way heading straight for us. Daario looked over his should giving a wink before facing his opponent. He twirled his stiletto standing there waiting. The Rider became close, Daario kissed the handle of his stiletto and threw it at the challenger. The blade struck the horse in the eye, knocking his rider to the ground. The Champion of Meereen tumbled toward Daario. Before he could even get up, the Tyroshi drew his arakh and decapitated the man.

_Fast, quick, and simple, _I thought. Thought Daario Naharis would be more dramatic to appease his audience. Apparently, I was mistaken.

As predicted the Meereenese did not oblige to their customs of the Challenge. The guards drew their bows and fire arrows at us. Jorah and Ser Barristan rushed to block us. Fortunately, the arrows impacted the earth twenty feet away from us. Daario smirked, as he opens these strings of his breeches and pulled out his penis pissing on the ground. Mocking the Meereenese as their champion mocked us. I rolled my eyes finding it unnecessary.

Once the Meereenese calms down from their tantrum, I walked over still keeping a distance. I spoke loudly in Valyrian as the ravine echoed the words to the crowd. Primarily to the slaves.

"_I am Alysanne Targaryen. Your Masters may have told lies about me, or they may have told you nothing. It does not matter. I have nothing to say to them. I speak only to you. First, I went to Astapor. Those who were slaves in Astapor, now stand behind me, free."_ I said waving my right hand to the Unsullied. "_Next I went to Yunkai. Those who were slaves in Yunkai, now stand behind me, free._" I waved my left arm address the Yunkish soldiers. "_Now I have come to Meereen. To free you. I am not your enemy. Your enemy is beside you. Your enemy steals and murders your children. Your enemy has nothing for you but chains and suffering, and commands. I do not bring you commands. I bring you a choice. And I bring your enemies what they deserve. Forward!"_

The catapults were brought in armed with barrels containing the collars of the 163 children and thousands from Yunkai. The slaves starts in Meereen. It's time to bring back their property.

I drew my sword and aim it at the city, "_Fire!_"

One by one the catapults launched the barrels into Meereen. Crashing into the city's buildings where it shattered, pouring the collars like rain. Shouting and screaming to be heard. My message was heard and display to the people.

"_Decide! The collar or freedom."_

**.o0o.**

Back in camp, we made preparation for the sacking of Meereen. Some of the Volunteers who were once slaves in Meereen before being sold to Yunkai pointed locations in how to get inside the city. There was a sewer system on the west side near the shores. If the Unsullied can break through the metal cage and into the catacombs and sewers will lead to the men's chamber. The plan was simple, Grey Worm will lead a hundred Unsullied inside with Volunteers to get inside Meereen, and cause a revolt in the underground chambers. Providing slaved men weapons and removing their collars.

I will not be like Tywin Lannister and send an army attacking everyone in the city. No, I will make sure it is targeted who meets the blade, not spilling the lives of innocence. You cannot blame someone based on their culture. The Great Masters are at fault in the practice of slavery.

"_Once you are inside, you will collect each head of the Great Families and bring them forward to face justice_," I ordered. "_I don't want any of them dead_."

Grey Worm nodded, "_As my Queen command_."

"What if the Slaves don't want to participate in their liberation?" Daenerys asked.

"Then they have missed out on making history," I answered. "We have come this far, it's time to put an end to Slaver's Bay and the practice of slavery once and for all."

Everyone nodded. The sacking will commence in two days. Enough time for the Unsullied to rest, acquire their disguises and weapons before sneaking in. Dismissing the council meeting, everyone left except for Ser Jorah. I stood there examining the map. Ghiscari nation holds the highest productivity in slavery, with the exception of New Ghis. Putting an end to it will decrease the market. However, it won't stop other regions in their practice. Many lavish islands, the Dothraki sea, and other realms. Areas I don't think I will be able to disrupt and change. Only leave a message that will inspire people to make a difference.

"Alysanne," Jorah murmured.

I looked up and softly smile at him, "Does this plan seem to work?"

"Aye, the masters won't know what hit them," Jorah assured. "But once we free the slaves, what are your next plans?"

"I'm not entirely sure," I confessed. "I'm not ready for Westeros just yet. If we sail the Narrow Seas now, they'll see me as a violent conqueror. A Targaryen who uses violence to take down cities and butcher men. I need to prove myself that I can rule. Be capable of ruling."

I picked up a totem of a dragon.

"Even with ten thousand soldiers, two thousand second sons, two thousand horses, and three dragons, it is not enough to go against the Seven Kingdoms." I sighed. "We will have to increase our forces and require ships."

"You still have distant cousins to aid you," Jorah added. "The Martells will want justice for Elia Martell and her children. The Velaryon will support their kin as they did before. Acquire the Golden Company, and soon the Crownlands will be yours."

"The Golden Company do not support House Targaryen even if gold is offered," I reminded. "They were founded by Bittersteel. Daemon Blackfyre's half-brother and general."

Jorah nodded not going further than that on the Golden Company.

I placed my hand on King's Landing. This was my birthplace, home of my ancestors after Aegon's Conquest. However, three years are not enough to make it personal. I was doing this because an imminent threat will arise in Westeros. The Night King, as Visenya put it. I was born to lead, not rule a nation. If this threat wasn't an issue, I seriously don't know what I would do. If I didn't pull the charm of a conqueror, or the dragons were never resurrected.

"Out of curiosity…if we did not have this campaign of taking back the Iron Throne…what would you have done. After Drogo's funeral?"

Jorah was taken aback not expecting such a question, "I go wherever you go."

"Even if it meant not returning to Westeros?"

Jorah nodded, as he came over placing his hand over mine.

"A part of me wonders what would've happened if Daenerys did die or we renounce our claim," I confessed. "You see Bear Island as home. To me, five years of my life when I felt safe was in Braavos. Inside the House with the Red Door, with a garden of fruit trees that bloom during the summer seasons. I could just vanish, take the identity as a Lysenes woman and start some sort of business."

"Sounds like a good plan," he murmured.

I nodded leaning up and gave him a kiss.

I tried to imagine that plan with Ser Jorah. Just killing our old lives and start over as new people. No one afraid of House Targaryen and Jorah no longer an exiled knight. So many possibilities of that future that will never come. In Visenya's realm, I pulled the charm on conquest. The Undying ones showed me of a threat that will kill people without remorse. One that can turn Westeros into a frozen graveyard. I know it is not my responsibility since the kingdom forced me into exile. Take this as an opportunity for revenge. All men must die. Then again, it was not my destiny. Also, I want revenge against the Houses who rebelled against us. Primarily…House Lannister.

I have come to terms with House Stark. Rhaegar abducted Lyanna Stark when she was betrothed to another. Lord Rickard Stark went south to King's Landing with his eldest son to get her back. Father only escalated the problem by burning them alive. Jon Arryn was dead, the man who raised the banners and I will not blame his son for the crimes of his father. Robert Baratheon was dead, and if the information is correct, Stannis Baratheon and Renly Baratheon will kill each other off before they sit on the Iron Throne. That leaves one House who held no reason to go against House Targaryen. House Lannister rebelled after Robert Baratheon murdered Rhaegar at the Tridents. They were an opportunist when my father was at his vulnerable point in losing a son. I know my father was Mad, I know how he earned his name. But Tywin Lannister and King Aerys the Second were once friends. But most importantly, I want to confront Jaime Lannister and look him in the eye and demand him why he broke his oath, stabbing my father in the back.

I have a faint memory of the Kingslayer. A young man with green eyes and golden hair. Had a smile that could make any woman smile. In the end, I want to know why? Something doesn't make sense in why a member of the Kingsguard would break his vows and murder his king. Did he choose loyalty for his family? Did King Aerys order him to it, so he wouldn't be killed by the enemy? Or was it something else? I want to know the truth. What happened in the Throne Room during the sacking of King's Landing?

What happened?

.**o0o**.

_Third's POV_

Grey Worm sat across from Missandei as she was doing another lesson in teaching him in common tongue. The Commander of the Unsullied felt a rare sense of privilege to learn how to speak a universal language. Growing up, he taught himself to understand the language. Able to hear travelers or his enemies and understand what they were saying. However, he never had the opportunity to speak it. It did not flow through his tongue during his training years, Now, his Queen wants him to learn to prepare for situations where he would need to communicate with someone who doesn't speak Valyrian.

What makes it extra special was that Missandei was reaching him.

"My name…is Grey Worm." He managed to say. "I come from…the Summer Ills."

"Isles," Missandei corrected. "Summer Isles."

"Summer Isles," Grey Worm repeated. "_Where are you from?"_

"_We must practice in Common Tongue_," Missandei said. "I am from an island called Naarth."

"_When did they take you_?" Grey worm asked.

Missandei gave him a lecture look to speak in Common tongue.

"When they took you?" He asked.

"When _did_ they take me?" Missandei corrected. The paused thinking about it, "I was five years old."

"You remember your home?" he asked.

"I remember when they rowed us away from shore." She answered. "How white the beaches were. How tall the trees. And I remember my village burning. Smoke rising into the sky."

Grey Worm's fingers reached to touch her hand on the table. Missandei pulled her hand away not realizing it and sighed.

"Do you remember your home?" She asked.

He shook his head, "Unsullied. Always Unsullied. Before Unsullied, nothing."

"That's not true." She said, looking into his eyes. "Perhaps one day you will return to the Summer Isles."

"I don't want return." He said. "_Kill the masters."_

"Kill the masters," she repeated.

"Kill the masters," he growled out.

The flap to Grey Worm tent open as Daenerys and Ser Barristan enters.

"How are the lessons coming?" Daenerys asked.

Both stood up as Missandei answered, "Very well, Your Highness."

"Missandei is teacher good, my princess." Grey Worm said.

Daenerys and Missandei smiled. Both finding his attempt adorable, even though he is an elite soldier. She sighed getting back to business.

"You have to continue later," Daenerys murmured. "It's time."

The two Westerosi left the tent. Grey Worm followed them but stopped glancing over his shoulder at Missandei who stood there. After a moment, he left to prepare for the siege. All of his men dressed as slaves, putting on the collars. He found it strange, to wear one again. Last he wore one was during his training years in Astapor before putting to the final test. One he was not proud of us since he murdered a baby in front of his mother. Once everyone was ready, they left camp in the darkest hour along the Skahazadhan river, where the Unsullied were led by an once Meereen Slave. There they found the cave, where they removed the gate, and snuck inside Meereen.

**.o0o.**

Mossador spent all his life as a slave. His mother was a slave, and he has no knowledge if his father was a slave or a master. All he knew was when he no longer needed his mother care at the age of five, he was taken away. He spent the rest of his life with the elders. Laboring on his hands in knees in harvest or construction and return to darkness in the catacombs. So, when he stood on the balcony of the Twin Harpies, he was amazed in seeing the Unsullied. Seeing one man kill Oznak zo Pahl with two strikes. And seeing a woman in a red dress with black armor vest addressing not to the Masters, but to the slaves. Alysanne Targaryen's word inspired him to rise up again.

So, in the dark chamber lit by a few torches he talked with his fellow friends and the elders to revolt once again.

"_You heard her. She said she came to free us!"_ Mossador said.

"_You're a fool_," an elder said. "_The Masters are too strong."_

"_She will protect us,"_ Mossador disagreed. "_She defeated the Master's champion_."

The young men nodded.

Mossador kneeled his hands together in prayer. "_She has a great army. You want to live the rest of your days in chains?"_

"_I want to live,"_ the second elder said. A man who was taken from his one in Norvos as a child. "_You saw what they did to those children. What do you think they'll do to us?"_

"_I've been through two slave revolts, boy,"_ the first elder added. "_They always end the same way: The Masters in power and the slave's dead."_

"Valar Morghulis," a new voice said, joining the conversation.

The men turned their glances seeing new faces. The one who stood in front held a solemn look, eyes burning with determination.

"_But I promise you, a single day of freedom is worth more than a lifetime in chains_," the man said.

"_Who are you?"_ the first elder asked, standing up.

"_This one is called Grey Worm,"_ he answered. _"I was taken as a baby by the Masters of Astapor, raised and trained as Unsullied. Now I fight for Alysanne, the Dragoness of the West and Breaker of Chains."_

"_You are Unsullied?"_ the First elder said. "_They taught you how to fight before you could walk. We are not soldiers!"_

"_We have no training, no weapons,"_ the second elder added.

Grey Worm removed his pack and tossed it on the ground presenting it to the slaves. Along with his comrades, a loud clang could be heard of steel. As short swords and blade fell out. Mossador knelt down examining the eyes of the content widen.

"_There are three slaves in this city for every Master."_ Grey Worm said. "_No one can give you your freedom, brothers. If you want it, you must take it."_

In the early hours of the morning the slaves rebelled. With weapons in their hands and the Unsullied guidance, they took the city. As the slaves killed certain masters, Grey Worm and his team capture the Great Masters. The men who were in charge of running Meereen. Taking the head of each family out of their bed and dragged them through the street. Blood was spilled, but no women or children were killed.

To add insult, a black flag of a three-headed dragon was tied to the wings of the Golden Harpy on top of the great pyramid.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I was proud of my Unsullied in helping the slaves be liberated from the masters. When the sun reaches the sky, there was cheering, as I and the rest of the army waited at the gates. The doors open, allowing us access where Grey Worm stood there holding the Meereen Banner. I unmounted my horse and walked over to him.

"My Queen, Meereen is yours," Grey Worm said in common tongue.

"Thank you, Grey Worm," I said. "You brought great victory."

Grey Worm nodded, though the corner of his lip lifted into a small smile. Securing the banner, I walked through the streets to greet the freed slaves, in person. Daenerys, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, and Missandei accompany me. The crowd cheering Mhysa, tossing their collars to the ground in gratitude. Children coming over giving hugs and joining our journey to the Great Pyramid.

Walking through many steps and climbing hills till reaching the entrance of the Great Pyramid platform. There on a lower lever stood the Great Masters, hurdle like cattle. Some had injuries while others seem fine. Many cowards in fear while others glared at me. So, these are the Great Masters of Meereen. The men who order the death of children. My face grew neutral as I contemplated their sentencing.

"Remind me, Ser Jorah, how many children did the Great Masters nail to a milepost?" I asked.

"163, Alysanne," Jorah answered.

"Yes, that was it," Daenerys murmured.

I turned to Grey Worm, "_Take them to the dungeons_."

Grey Worm nodded giving the command to the Unsullied guarding the Great Masters. Immediately, the Great Masters were escorted inside.

"Your Grace, may I have a word?" Ser Barristan asked.

We stepped away from the crowds view to speak.

"The city is yours." Ser Barristan said. "All these people, they're your subjects now. Sometimes it is better to answer injustice with mercy."

"I will answer injustice with justice," I told him. "By the laws of men, there will be a trial." I turned my gaze to the Great Master, "What are the chances that all these men order the deaths of those children?"

Ser Barristan sighed in relief hearing I will not execute the death of all the Great Masters. If I am to rule Westeros, I need to secure my knowledge of putting accused on trial and find them innocent or guilty. I will not be my father, executing men here and there based on an accusation. There will be order and justice.

"And those found guilty?" Ser Barristan asked.

"They shall know the suffering those children felt," I answered. "Some crimes cannot be forgiven."

Ser Barristan nodded.

* * *

**So, as I was snooping to see what the Meereen champion was saying on GOT fandom, I discover why Missandei did not translate. It was the same quote from _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ where the French soldier insults King Arthur. A bit scrambled, but it was the same scene, without the raspberries.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	27. Chapter 27: The Choice

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content**_

* * *

**Chapter 27: The Choice**

I entered the Great Pyramid where the Great Master of the year once lived. Now the Great Pyramid was my home. A thousand-foot architecture divided into six sections. The apex, the hall, the heart, the base, the pit, and the dungeons. The dungeons were where prisoners were kept along with the torture chambers. Next to the pit, another storage for prison and storage. The base was located at the ground, within the ground level walls, sounds echo off arches of many-colored brick, and amongst the stables, stalls, and storerooms. What was shocking is seeing that there were three elephants. This being the first for many in seeing elephants for us Westerosi, except for Jorah. He found Daenerys, and I surprised amusing, as he petted one with no fear. We continue our journey upward into the Heart, was the living quarters for the servants and masters, decorated in luxury.

Next was the Hall, the Audience chamber. All around was carved in stone as the broad marble steps lead to a throne. A throne beautifully crafted made of carved and gilded wood, in the shape of a harpy. I frown, knowing I will have that replace. For I was a dragon, and a dragon does not sit on a harpy's lap. Therefore, I told the council to get rid of it, strip the finery and give it to the freemen and burn the wood. When asked what I want to do as a chair to address the subjects, I advise them a bench shall do. Of course, a week later I was presented a carved bench made of ebony.

On the very top was the Apex. Where the Greatest Master would live for a year to rule Meereen. Chambers surrounding the greenery and fragrant pools. We divided the chambers, so Daenerys, Missandei, and Ser Barristan had their own quarters. Ser Jorah offered to be in the Heart, although I have a feeling he will be in my quarters during the night. Daario, still cautious of his pursuit on my sister was assigned in the Heart. It was a change of scenery, as I explore the terrace gardens, having a view of Meereen where the Temple of the Graces and the Skahazadhan river. Along with the dry hills, the orchards, and the fields of the city.

At the very top was the golden harpy. Once things are settled, she would be removed and melted. Usually, I held tolerance towards other religions. Having higher respect for the Old Golds and the Great Stallion. Being courteous of other gods from different realms. However, this one, the Harpy will not be present in the Great Pyramid or in the public view.

Now it was time to get down to business, as I entered the study in the Apex in search of documents. The Great Masters are locked in the dungeons awaiting trial, and I need to find evidence. I need to separate the good seeds from the bad. Otherwise, it will be a battle of pointing fingers and accusations in who orders the death of those children. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah helped in the search, along with Missandei. Scavenging through the recent documents. One document that shocked me was an enormous book with names on it, scratched off and a number beside it. The names of slaves and their worth.

It took three days, seeing that the Great Masters enjoy wasting paper when Ser Barristan found it in a storage cylinder made of gold. Missandei read it aloud starting it was a transcript classifying who agreed to the making the children mile markers and who opposed to it. Apparently, there are 163 Great Families in Meereen, and each family gave or pressure to provide a slave child in their company. Out of the 163, only 53 opposed to such horrendous act.

"Your Grace, what will you do to the Great Masters who refused this sanction?" Missandei asked.

I sat down in a chair facing my Council, "They may have defended for the children, does not relinquish them on their participation in Slavery. Therefore, they will be removed from their position as Head of their family, and their heir takes over. The same goes to the others."

"A wise decision," Ser Barristan said.

"Grey Worm, I need you to go to each family and report this to testify on their father's behalf. Men train their sons for legacy. In case the Great Masters dare lie during the trial. All will stand forth and confess or be held accountable. Providing spiritual absolution of their sins."

Grey Worm nodded, for tomorrow once the documents have been written to collect the heirs for their specific date to stand trial. As we divided into the Great Masters to be handled within a week or so. The guilty shall be punished in the manner the children have experience. Keeping to the balance of mercy and justice.

Once done, I dismissed the council and headed to my chambers. This was a serious test to see if I can be a ruler. In Astapor though planned I acted on impulses in sacking it. Killing the Good Masters who were known for mutilating and butchering their slaves. Yunkai, the Wise Masters surrendered the moment their slave soldiers stopped defending them. They were only stubborn during negotiations. Meereen on the other hand, they did the Champion Challenge, which Daario won, and yet they deny accesses. Therefore, Grey Worm and the Unsullied snuck in to cause the Slaves to revolt. This could have been the same situation as Yunkai. However, the Great Master went too far in their attempts of intimidation by crucifying 163 children on the mile markers.

I stared at the conqueror ring wondering what Visenya would think. I'm conflicted about this. Considering I'm doing the right thing by putting the Great Masters on trial. I could execute them all and be done with it, or spare them all as Ser Barristan suggested in mercy. After seeing all those children, wondering how much they have suffered until their cruel death…I couldn't. Something inside me prevented that. Maybe it's my weakness towards children.

Sighing, I laid down and closed my eyes trying to get rid of a headache that was forming. Not realizing I fell asleep and open my eyes in Dragonstone in the throne room. Sitting on the Stone Throne was Visenya. She sat there sharpening Dark Sister.

"You surprised me, dragoness," Visenya said. "Reminded me the time Aegon convinced the Rivermen to go against the Hoarse."

I sat up and looked at her, "Am I doing the right thing? Putting the Great Masters on trial?"

"The mother in me says yes," Visenya answered. "However, every action has its consequences. No good deed goes unpunish."

"So, no matter what I do, there will be retaliation," I concluded.

"You be surprised how many retaliations Aegon and I went through. How do you think the Kingsguard was established," she said? "Slaver's Bay is the proprietor in Slavery. It will take time to learn how to rule and balance. In the end, we cannot satisfy everyone." She stopped sharpening Dark Sister. "Long ago the Valyrian freehold end the practice of slavery in their territory. But my father did confess we took prisoners and had them work in the mines. Aided allies who continue the practice. No one is perfect."

"But House Targaryen never partook," I said.

"I'm not entirely sure, records were lost during the Doom," she confessed. "In the end, you shouldn't be conflicted about this. The Masters hate you no matter what. So, you will learn how to deal with it before you return to Westeros. When the horses and krakens arrive."

"How much time does Westeros has before the Army of the Dead arrives?" I asked.

"The White Walkers are already awake," she answered. "When the Night King decides to head South, you will already be there."

"Can you be more specific? Days, months, years?" I asked.

"That's the thing about the unknown, you can never know," She riddled.

I sighed, giving up.

"Now, your relationship with Jorah?" She murmured.

"What about it?" I asked.

"You love him," she stated as a matter of fact.

I blushed not looking at her. I was so close to falling in love with him. It's just with our campaign. I feel like we don't get the opportunity of courtship. Ever since Pentos he has been by my side protecting me the best of his abilities, even when Viserys was still alive. Visenya gave a slight chuckle, then sighed as her eyes grew sad. I was about to ask her what was wrong only to be startled waking back in Meereen.

I shot up gasping, only to find it was Daenerys who waked me. She pulled back not expecting it.

"Sorry, I did not mean to wake you," Daenerys said. "It's time for dinner."

I panted trying to catch my breath looking out the balcony to see it was dusk, "Next time just let me sleep."

"But it's fun waking you up," Daenerys teased.

I grabbed the pillow and smacked her with it. She chuckled, before getting out of bed and learning to the private room where dinner was being served. It was just us eating, as Daenerys said Jorah and Ser Barristan were securing the grounds again. I simply nodded eating the food that was provided.

"There is something I wanted to tell you," Daenerys spoke.

"And what is that?" I asked.

"I saw you hugging Jorah," Daenerys answered.

"Uh…so…" I replied.

"It seems a bit intimate on our way to Meereen, also noting back in Yunkai he has been going to your chambers," she added.

Jorah and I have been trying to keep our relationship a secret. Mainly to prevent any complication on the journey if enemies saw us together. Also, if people make accusations. It shouldn't be an issue. But I wasn't a very open person. Many said I can be very introverted when not pleasing people.

"All I'm saying is don't hold yourself back," Daenerys said taking my hand. "You deserve to be happy. I must confess, I was trying to get you two together since the Red Waste."

"I've noticed that," I muttered.

Daenerys chuckled, "Just don't hold back anymore."

I sighed taking her hand and squeezed it, "Thank you."

"So…did you two…"

"Dany!" I exasperated.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckled again. "So…is he good."

I blushed trying not to look at her. Trying not to think of our last intimate encounter in Yunkai before traveling to Meereen. We haven't been intimate since then, wanting to keep a clear head in case of a battle. The past three days, we've been busy in finding evidence to hold the Great Masters accountable that we haven't had time alone. Along with Ser Barristan being by my side as Queensguard.

"What is it with older men being good in bed?" She asked.

"Experience," I mumbled. "I mean, Drogon was roughly sixteen years older than you. And I haven't heard of a complaint."

This time Daenerys blushed, "Well, once we started to understand each other."

I nodded squeezing her hand again, "I know it hasn't been a year yet. And I know you loved him."

"It was my fault he is dead," Daenerys mumbled. "I should have listened. If I haven't put so much faith in that witch, Drogo and Rhaego would still be alive."

"Sometimes things happen for a reason," I said. "Right now, both are riding in the night lands with their ancestors.

She sighed but nodded.

"I want you to know, I will not enforce you in any arrange marriages. I want you to find love. However, if you were to marry, I will decide if he is worthy for your hand." I informed.

"But wouldn't we need the political alliances through marriage?" She asked.

"Fuck alliances," I said, which made her chuckle. "After the rebellion, do you think I would arrange a political marriage when Five of the Great Houses betrayed us?"

Daenerys nodded.

"Now, be careful," I told her. "I still have elixirs from Lys that can prevent conception."

Daenerys nodded, "I think I'm going to wait a bit longer."

I nodded. Afterward, we went back to our meals. It was nice to have a moment with my sister and not talk about the war in a battle setting. Also, Daenerys advise in how to should not hide my relationship. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be officially open about my feelings in the public, but I think I can be inside the pyramid.

**.o0o.**

There was a knock on the door announcing it was Ser Jorah with a report. I told him to enter, which he did holding a scroll. He started all professional, stating the pyramid is secured and that twenty of the Great Masters sons will arrive tomorrow to discuss their fathers' trial. I sighed, knowing it will be the start of bringing justice for the children. Even though this would not be an official trial since it was I against the Great Masters. I decided that if the Great Master regrets their decision in executing those children, then I will have them imprisoned for the rest of their days. If they don't regret it, then I have no choice but to execute them the same way those children went through. Having them crucified until death and rot on the post.

Jorah came over and hugged me from behind as we looked out into the city.

"Am I doing the right thing?" I asked.

"You have a gentle heart, Alysanne," Jorah murmured. "When I was Lord of Bear Island, I dealt with the struggle of punishing a man who committed a crime. My first being a man who killed his wife. She died trying to protect their children with an ax in hand. He was sick in the mind. It was a struggle, for I had known him growing up."

"What happened to him?" I whispered.

"Even though I wish I could give mercy, there are some crimes that could not be forgiven. The man who passes the sentences should swing the sword."

I listened to his words and thought about what Visenya said. I was the invader to the Meereenese, disrupting the Masters' traditions in slavery. No matter what I do, mercy or justice, they will still hate me in the end until they accept. If we were not greeted by the children at the mile markers, things would have been different. It would have been the same as they were with Astapor and Yunkai. However, the Great Masters challenge me, and I have no choice but to respond.

Right now, I wanted to forget about the Great Masters and the trials. Turning around in Ser Jorah's arms facing him, before giving him a kiss. He kissed back for a moment, then stared into my eyes filled with love.

"Will you stay tonight?" I asked.

"As you wish," he answered.

"And all the other nights?" I offered.

This surprised Ser Jorah, "Are you sure?"

"I'm not going to follow traditions Jorah," I said, cradling his cheek. "I control my life, not caring what others think."

A smile graced his lips as he kissed me again. Traditions in our culture as Westerosi can go to hell. It was traditions that exiled us from our home. The traditions of marriage to people who took advantage of us. Now that Viserys is dead, and Jorah marriage to Lynesse is annulled we were free to be together with no complications. Yes, Jorah has been married twice, his first wife died from a miscarriage at a very young age, and his second wife a privileged woman. But it doesn't change how I feel for Jorah. He saw me as Alysanne, even with a Targaryen name and claimant, he doesn't address me with royal titles.

We made our way to the bed stripping our clothes until we were laying on the bed. Jorah crawled on top of me, leaning down and kissed my chest until lashing his tongue over my nipple and sucked deeply. I moaned, combing my fingers through his hair. My body reacting to his touches, causing me to arch and squirm that made my body sing. When he slips his fingers between my legs and pressed firmly against my opening. I gasped, bucking my hip against his hand. Jorah kissed up claiming my lips, as he glided his fingers firmly along with the opening, teasing the clit with his thumb pressed against the pearl.

I threw my head back moaning, which Jorah kissed my throat, lavishing the skin with his tongue. He continues rubbing, increasing the pressure as he strokes until sliding his fingers inside. I gasped wrapping my arms around him, rocking into his hands while he pumps his fingers inside in search for that spot. He always does this, prepare me for intercourse at the same time provide me my first release. Sliding his fingers inside and circling my clit with his thumb. Either it is his hands or tongue, he focuses on that first release.

Meanwhile, his lips claimed my lips, ears, neck or breast adding more to the sensation. It wasn't long as he pressed at that sensitive spot inside me that sent me over the edge, moaning his name in the climax. Body convulsing in bliss clinging to him for dear life.

Once I came down from my high, I stared at him seeing the slight smirk on his face. Panting, I grabbed him around the head and pulled him down for a kiss. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I turned us, so I was on top. I lean down kissing his chest, returning the favor, pressing my loins against his member receiving a groan. Lips traveling up along his neck taking claim over the scar. Suckling it, though careful not to leave a mark. Jorah groaned as his hand went through my hair grabbing it, but not too tightly.

When my hand stroked down his torso and found his member, a groan escaped his lips. I chuckled enjoying the power I have at this moment. Feeling his member hard and ready, I align it to my entrance and slide down his erection. Going down until he was rooted in the hilt. Jorah cursed as his hands grabbed my waist securing me there. I panted adjusting to his size, walls stretching to his girth and length. Once we caught our bearings, I began to rock upon him. He encourages my motion, helping to set the pace.

Our eyes never left one another. Lost in a deep connection as our emotions stirred to be connected. Rocking back and forth, as he slides in and out of me. It won't be long when the pace quickens feeling so close to coming once more. Jorah sat up, adjusting his legs while one arm secured around my waist and the other on the bed. He thrust up every time I came down. Going deep, striking the sensitive spot inside. I gasped wrapping my arms around him, breasts pushed against his chest. My lips claiming his. We moved to one another reaching our goals until we both came at the same time.

He released inside me, his seeds coating my womb but I did not care. Knowing I was on the Lys elixir. Jorah panted pulling us down that I lay on top of him. His chest heaving out of breath, his hand combing through my hair while keeping his other arm around my waist. My head rested on his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart.

"I don't assume you are up for another round," I jest.

Jorah chuckled slightly, "Give me a moment."

I chuckled, scooting up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. Some would question of an older man with a younger woman. The assumption that a Targaryen has a high libido. I can't not say if that is true. All I could say is, to have Jorah's arms around me, made feel safe and secure.

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**Thank for reading and please leave a review!**


	28. Chapter 28: Trialing the Great Masters

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Languages**_

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

Old Ghiscari

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**Chapter 28: Trialing the Great Masters**

I thought it would take a week to trial the 163 Great Masters. Judging twenty to thirty Masters a day, except these men were stubborn. Prolonging speeches in their defense. Praising their greatness and lavishing their character. However, it did not rest their case when the transcript is presenting their name, they voted yes for the execution of the slave children. Usually, their sons or protégé comes forth to speak the truth of the defendant on trial of their judgment. So far, they spoke the truth, except for those who dare stab their colleague in the back.

Currently Unsullied surrounded the Audience Hall, while I sat on the ebony bench on the top of the stairs. Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan standing behind me, and Missandei at her post being the translator. In these long trials, everyone was fortunate enough to reach fifteen men. Since I have to address my subjects.

Taking a deep breath, the next son came in. He was a tall, very slender man. He held a gentle profile, placid eyes, and long face with a trimmed beard. He had wiry black hair too. He appeared to be in his late twenties. Only the attire he wore made him appear older, wearing blue robes and the Ghis scarves of gold entwining to a bronze ring around his waist. Behind him was servant, who stood there in perfect health.

_"The noble lord Hizdahr zo Loraq begs an audience with the Queen,_" the servant said.

"_The noble Hizdahr zo Loraq can speak for himself_," I said calmly.

The servant gave a bow stepping back. Hizdahr stepped forward onto the platform and gave a bow.

"Queen Alysanne," Hizdahr greeted. "Tales of your beauty were not exaggerated."

"I thank you," I replied.

"Mine is one of the oldest and proudest families in Meereen." He said.

"Then it is my honor to receive you," I said. "Only I wish it was under better circumstances."

"My father, one of the Meereen's most respected and beloved citizens, oversaw the restoration and maintenance of its greatest landmarks. This pyramid included."

"Which brings us to this situation," I sighed, getting serious. "On my way to Meereen, I encountered a horrendous act against humanity. The Great Masters crucifying innocent children. One hundred and sixty-three children from the ages of three to ten. I stared at each and every one of their faces and pray for their souls before they were put to rest with a promise that they will receive justice. Now the time has come to see who were the men responsible for this decision. Speak the truth, did your father, Great Master zo Loraq voted to crucify the children?"

"My father spoke out against crucifying those children." He answered, eyes staring into my own. "He decried it as a criminal act, but was overruled. Is it justice to answer one crime with another?"

I looked at Ser Barristan who held a copy of the transcript to be sure the head of zo Loraq was on the against list. He examined the parchment and nodded.

"What's done is done. You are the queen and I am a servant of Meereen." Hizdahr said. "A servant who does not wish to see his father executed on the crimes of others. Though slaves we held, we treated them as human beings. Educating them, as you see before you."

As he gestures the servant behind him. I waved my hand for the servant to come forward. He obliged giving a bow.

"_Does he speak the truth?"_ I asked the servant.

"_Master zo Loraq is a good man. I know to read and write under his roof,"_ the servant answered.

I nodded, making a gesture for the guards to bring in Master zo Loraq. A few moments later, an older man came forward confused, being shackle from his imprisonment. There was some resemblance to his son, only his hair was greying.

"_Master zo Loraq,"_ I spoke. "_On the crimes of the crucifying the innocent children, where was your position on the vote."_

The elderly man looked down, "_No child should die. I said no."_

"_Over the past few days, you are the first man I have encounter whose son shows much love for his father. Along with the support of your servant. Based on the evidence, you are free to go and live out your days_."

Master zo Loraq eyes widen as he fell onto his knees giving his gratitude. Hizdahr gave a bow, before helping his father up and guiding him home. I wish all the sons of the Great Masters showed the same devotion to their fathers as Hizdahr zo Loraq. The way the man spoke, and the respect on tradition and his family value make him a perfect candidate of being a member of the Meereen Council. As I intend to have one Great Master and One Freeman to discuss the decision of their city.

Once they were gone, I looked at Ser Jorah who gave an approving nod and then to Ser Barristan who gave a small smile. Seeing that I allowed the Great Masters to petition with the support of their heirs. It is not the same as Westeros's trials, but a person can be found guilty or innocent based upon the evidence. The only way a man could survive their vindictive is to confess why they did it or except execution. If we were back in Westeros, I would have offered the Great Masters to take the black. But there is no wall here.

After a long two weeks, the fifty-three Great Masters were free, five regretting their decision will spend life in the dungeons, and the rest…the rest were crucified. On the day that the guilty party was crucified, the freemen stood out and watch, as the Unsullied nailed them to the post. The entire day Meereen past screamed in agony. I had mixed emotions, but everyone in my council told me I did much better than my Father. King Aerys the Second would have burned all of the Great Masters alive with Wildfire. If I were my father, I would have crucified all of them with no questions. However, I am not my father. I gave the Great Masters an opportunity, and they went against their word the moment I reach the Cities Gates. It was a trial or overall execution. And the trial has shown me that not all the Great Masters are cruel.

The Meereenese were raised under a barbaric tradition that they were to blind to see how wrong it was. It was their lifestyle, no matter what their status was from the lower class to Great Master. Anyone who came to the city in chains, they saw as animals or property. So, to find some of the Great Masters know the limits of how far is too far on the abuse of humans…there may be a chance to reform them.

Although, I know there will be a consequence for killing the majority of the Great Masters. Also, the repercussion of the sudden change in culture. I left Astapor and Yunkai under a council to develop. Hopefully, they heed my warning or abolishing slavery…otherwise, I will return. I gave them a second chance. I will not give them a third chance.

**.o0o.**

The days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months as the city adjusted. The Unsullied assigned to station post in the city securing the area. The Second Sons patrol the borders of the city in case of enemies. The Dragons on occasion would fly by. Many were in awe, although there were some who were afraid. Although, one dragon seems to vanish a lot more than the others. Drogon. So, ensuring the whereabouts of the black dragon, I station watch towers and returning messages the practice of carrier bird. Unlike Westeros using Ravens, the Ghriscari province uses falcons, primarily Saker Falcons. Once the dragons have been spotted a falcon would be sent.

Other than that, Daenerys has been working hard on her hostels and mass halls. Along with organizing ships to help escort the freemen back to their homes. There were many slaves from Lhazar, who want to return home. Daenerys suggested they shouldn't for the risk of being enslaved again by the Dothraki. But I reminded her, that freedom has a choice. Even if there is a risk. So, we arrange a caravan to escort the Lhazareen back to Lhazar. I just pray no godswife in the group dare practice in blood magic to condemn us.

_Clash_

My sparing sword blocked the attack from Ser Barristan. It was morning, as Ser Barristan was training me in swordsmanship. Now that we were settled in Meereen I spend two hours in the morning training and one hour at the late hour or at night depending on my schedule. I block the next attack using a shield. The force knocks me a step back, but I manage to recover. The past year I have grown strong. Both knights agreed that I proved I can handle the arming sword with one hand that I should practice wielding a shield to earn equal balance in my arms. As Jorah pointed out there were now muscles forming. Not as protrusive as the men, but tone.

"Left foot forward," Ser Barristan said, correcting me on a mistake. "Now pivot as you deliver the stroke with all your weight behind it."

I nodded attempting against, which took three tries before getting it right. A memory Braavos came to mind when Ser Willem hired a Water Dancer to teach Viserys how to use a sword. As you can tell, that did not go well. Braavosi water dance was different from knight dancing. The Water Dancer moves like water and air, and knight moves vigorously as earth. Theatrics vs. goals, I would say. Although the Braavosi uses theatrics as a form of distraction, it does not resolve the fact that someone is trying to kill you.

It wasn't long when Ser Barristan caught me, aiming his sword in my face. Damn it, I left my self-open again.

"You need to use the shield, your grace," Ser Barristan reminded. "You are leaving yourself open."

I looked into his eyes and nodded.

"Or you can take a dagger and kill the man," Daario announced as he walked over to the training ground with Ser Jorah.

"But does she have a dagger on her," Jorah counter.

Ser Barristan let go of my wrist and he took the sparing sword. I faced the men taking off the strap on the shield. It wasn't the usual kind where a warrior must hold on very tightly or the Unsullied. It was smaller suitable for my size.

"Do all women fight in your country?" Daario asked.

"No, it is not custom for women to fight," Jorah answered. "But there are Houses in the North who have their daughters learn to wield a spear and bow in hand."

"Bear Island puts an ax in their daughters' hand before they are three," Ser Barristan jest.

"I wouldn't say three," Jorah replied amused. "But every man, woman, and child are trained."

"Still, your fighting style doesn't seem to keep you alive," Daario taunt.

"Well, the Westerosi style isn't about playing with your opponent," I said. "A sword or any weapon is not a toy, it is a tool design for one thing, and that is to kill."

"I would disagree," Daario murmured. "It is sort of entertainment in the fighting pits."

I scowled, "Men killing each other as a source of entertainment is appalling."

"Really, have you seen men kill each other to please the crowd?" Daario asked.

"I have, at a Dothraki wedding," I answered.

"Sounds my kind of wedding," Daario murmured.

I sighed shaking my head, "It is one thing to beat people up to immobilize them. However, to give a weapon to kill someone should not be for sport."

I do not tolerate violence as game. That is the reason why I outlawed the fighting pits. When traveling with the Dothraki, there was fighting. But when they are raiding or killing over something of value, they were mainly roughhousing with their fist.

"Anyway, we have news from Westeros and other reports," Jorah announced changing the subject.

"All right, summon a council meeting," I said.

All three men nodded. I excused myself returning to the Pyramid to freshen up in my chambers. Changing out of my training clothes, and washing myself with a wet rag before putting on my royal attire.

**.o0o.**

In the Council Chamber in the Apex, everyone was assembled. Daenerys, Ser Barristan, and Ser Jorah sat by the table. Missandei and Grey Worm stood by the balcony. Meanwhile, Daario leaned against the wall arms crossed. Everyone was gathered, as we listen to the report, Ser Jorah has brought from Westeros.

"King Joffrey Baratheon is dead," Jorah announced.

Daenerys and I looked at him surprised. The supposed son of Robert Baratheon was dead.

"How?" I asked.

"Murdered at his own wedding," Jorah answered.

"And we have taken the Meereenese navy, Your Grace," Ser Barristan added.

"The Second Sons took the Meereenese navy," Daario corrected as he came over taking a seat at the table.

"Who told you to take the navy?" I asked annoyingly.

"No one," Daario answered, plucking a date from the bowl and plop it in his mouth.

"So why did you do it?" I asked sternly.

"I heard you liked ships," Daario answered casually.

I took a long deep breath. A person cannot take everything in a short period of time. If I present myself greedy, then the new Great Masters would find it as a threat. Already on thin ice with them, since the previous Great Masters who were guilty still, rot at the post.

"How many ships?" Daenerys asked.

"Ninety-three, Your Highness," Ser Barristan answered.

"How many men can they carry?" Daenerys asked.

"9,300, not counting the sailors." Ser Barristan answered.

"Would that be enough to take King's Landing? She asked.

"The Lannisters have more," Jorah answered.

"They've been fighting Joffrey's wars for years. They're tired, dispersed. And now their king is dead." Ser Barristan explained. "8,000 Unsullied, 2,000 Second Sons, 2,000 Ghis soldiers sailing into Blackwater Bay and storming the gates without warning."

I stared at Jorah wondering what he would think. He served in Robert's Rebellion, the Greyjoy Rebellion, and for a period of time was a member of the Golden Company. I understand Ser Barristan has good intentions and his mindset of the conditions of the Baratheon Monarchy. However, we are not talking about any Monarchy. We are up against Tywin Lannister who is the Hand of the King. Joffrey Baratheon was the face of the crown; it is Tywin Lannister who is the King on the chess board. No one can forget what he did to House Reyne. Along with the War of the Nine Penny Kings and…the sacking of King's Landing. A proven battle commander and politician.

When we settle in Meereen, we received gossip reports in what has transpired in Westeros. The Battle of Blackwater Bay, in King's Landing, when Stannis Baratheon tried to siege the Red Keep, except the enemy used Wildfire until the Lannister Forces arrived with the aid of House Tyrell. The Tyrells have forged an alliance with the Crown, marrying a maiden name Margaery to Joffrey Baratheon. Although, she was once married to one of the Five Kings, Renly Baratheon. House Stark surviving daughter Lady Sansa was forced to marry the imp Tywin Lannister, the Greyjoys pillaging Winterfell, killing the two young lords Bran and Rickard Stark.

There was one report being that of my vision in the House of the Undying that came true. One only Jorah, Daenerys and I were of aware of. The Northern Rebellion has come to an end, as the King in the North was murdered at his uncle Edmure Tully's wedding at the Twins. House Frey, Lord Walder Frey, and his sons massacre the Northern army in his home. All around people are calling it the Red Wedding. As Robb Starks had a wolfs head sewn to his body, his wife stabbed in the belly while pregnant and his mother, Lady Catelyn had her throat sliced. This was a sign that the visions are real and not an opioid illusion from the Shade of the Evening. In other words, confirming the Night King and his army are real.

Getting back on topic, I looked at Ser Jorah for his opinion.

"It's hard to say. It could be enough," Jorah answered. "But we're not fighting to make you queen of King's Landing. 12,000 men can't conquer Westeros."

"The old houses will flock to our queen when she crosses the Narrow Sea," Ser Barristan said.

"The old houses will flock to whichever side they think will win, as they always have," Jorah countered, then stood up. "There's other news. From Yunkai. Without the Unsullied to enforce your rule, the Wise Masters have retaken control of the city. They've reenslaved the freedmen who stayed behind and sworn to take revenge against you."

I clenched my fist taking a deep breath. Those selfish bastards! I've given them more leeway than Meereen and Astrapor combined.

"And in Astapor, the council you installed to rule over the city has been overthrown by a butcher named Cleon who declared himself 'His Imperial Majesty.'" Jorah added.

I turned around walking over to the balcony, "Please, leave me."

As command, everyone stood up to leave.

"Not you, Jorah," I said.

After a couple of moments knowing that the Council has left, I turned to see Jorah standing here.

"It appears my campaign in the liberation of Slaver's Bay isn't going quite as planned," I muttered.

Jorah shook his head, "You could sail for Westeros and leave it all behind. A boy who sits on the Iron Throne. A boy many believe to be a bastard with no right to it. They've never been more vulnerable."

"You counseled me against rashness once in Qarth," I murmured. "I didn't listen. That all worked out well."

Jorah chuckled slightly with a slight smile.

"How can I rule Seven Kingdoms if I can't control Slaver's Bay?" I asked him. "Why should anyone trust me? Why should anyone follow me?"

"You're a Targaryen. The Dragoness of the West." Jorah answered.

I turned around viewing the city horizon, twiddling the conquerors' ring. "I need to be more than that."

I faced him again, "I will not let those I have freed slide back into chains. I will not sail for Westeros."

"What, then?" Jorah asked.

"I will do what queens do. I will rule," I answered.

_Until the horses and Kraken arrive to lend aid, will I remain in Meereen_, I thought to myself.

Jorah nodded understanding that the benevolent approach is not enough to be a leader. It's time to put the Masters on a tighter leash and discipline his Imperial Majesty Cleon. At least I managed to rescue the freemen who left Yunkai and Astapor. Now I got to rescue the rest of my children. Now I must decide how to punish the Wise Masters of Yunkai. There are many ways to hand defiance, the question is…how does the punishment define me?

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**So…what do you think?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	29. Chapter 29: The Decision

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Decision**

_Alysanne's POV_

It was another day of listening to the people of Meereen. Four of the seven days of the week, I would sit on the ebony bench and listen to the people of Meereen. No matter what their status was, I lend my time to hear their complaints, request, or information they wish to share. Most were lower class and freemen in need of help to resolve an issue. On occasion would a Great Master come in to discuss business or try to negotiate to compensate lost property when I seized Meereen. I took property and lands so the freemen who decide to stay in Meereen can have a home. Some are being reconstructed to form apartments. The facilities will be designated towards families.

Today, I had Daenerys accompany me with Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, and Missandei. Daenerys sat in a chair on my right, while Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah stood by us. Missandei took her position on the middle platform to address our subject. I want Daenerys to learn how to prioritize and decide how to deal with a situation. Even as Queen, I need my heir to be prepared if anything were to happen. I need Daenerys to know what is a reasonable decision and what is one that cannot be resolved in a single day.

The next subject was a man holding a sack to his chest. He appeared intimidated, nervous, as his eyes glanced around the Audience Hall seeing the Unsullied.

"You stand before Queen Alysanne of the House Targaryen, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Breaker of Chains and Dragoness of the West. And her sister, Princess Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and Mother of Dragons."

"_Don't be afraid, my friend_," Daenerys greeted with a smile.

"_The Princess says you may approach and speak,_" Missandei said.

The man walked over slowly. His eyes glanced up, then snapped down until he stood on the middle step. He spoke in low Valyrian.

"He is a goatherd," Missandei translated. "He says he prayed for your victory against the slave masters."

"I thank him for his prayers," I said, which Missandei translated to him.

The goatherd set the sack down and reveal the contents. He lifted the flap and exposed charred remains of a goat. He talked about the dragons raiding his herd this morning and didn't understand what it means. He then stood up, still bowing his head.

"It was your dragons, he says. They came this morning for his flock." Missandei translated. "He hopes he has not offended Your Grace, but now he has nothing."

I took a moment thinking about a way to compensate for this shepherd. Lately, it has been noted that the Dragons have been hunting in the lush valleys in Meereen district. This man was the fifth farmer who lost their livestock. Based on the allegations, it has been Drogon who has been hunting more. Since Viserion and Rhaegal take what they can carry and fly off. Drogon, he has been taking more.

"Tell this man I am sorry for his hardship. I cannot bring back his goats, but I will see he is paid their value three times over, and two goats from the pyramids stables." I said.

Missandei told this the man, his eyes widen as he looked at me surprised. Silently asking if I spoke the truth. I nodded, knowing he needed to be compensated, and two goats one male and one female to start over again. Since goat milk is the primary dairy here in Meereen. Over and over again, he said thank you, collecting the bones and bowed. I smiled, after many appointments of arguing, it was nice to have one in which I made someone happy. Even though it came after the devastation.

Once the goatherd left, I said, "Send the next one in."

The doors open, as the next person was a familiar face, I haven't seen in almost two months.

"It is good to see you again, Hizdahr zo Loraq," I greeted. "How is your father?"

"My father is doing well, and thanks to you for his mercy," Hizdahr replied with a bow.

"I'm glad to hear that," I said. "What brings you here today?"

"You are the queen, and I am a servant of Meereen. A servant who does not wish to see its traditions eradicated." He explained.

"And what traditions do you speak of?" I asked.

"The tradition of funeral rite," he answered, holding his hands together. "Proper burial in the Temple of the Graces. One hundred and five noble Meereenese are stilled nailed to those posts, carrion for vultures, rotting in the sun." he paused, bending the knee bowing before me. "Your Grace, I and the new Great Masters ask that you order these men taken down so that they might receive proper burials."

"And what of the slave children these noble Meereenese crucified?" Daenerys asked, bitterly. "They were rotting in the sun as well. Would you have begged us for their right to a proper burial?"

"Your Highness, I cannot defend the actions of the masters. I can only speak to you as a man and his people of their religion," Hizdahr explained. "Let us take their bodies down. Let us have them brought to the temple and buried with dignity so that their lives might find peace in the next world. Knowing that they will not repeat this transgression."

I stared into his placid dark eyes seeing how devout he was. The same as I was to the Faith of the Seven. I was a tolerant woman, holding no prejudice towards one's religion. No matter how cruel it may seem. Every person has their own faith, their perspective on the afterlife. Seven Heavens and Seven Hells, I pray and feared. I do not know of the Ghiscari interpretation of the afterlife or in reincarnation. In the end, the Great Masters who agreed to crucify the slave children, have been executed. I stood up, walking down the steps until was stood before him. I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"I gave the queens justice for the living on this earth, I do not decide their fate in the afterlife. Tell the sons that they can bury their fathers, Hizdahr zo Loraq."

His eyes widen as relief took over, "Thank you, my queen."

Hizdahr stood up giving a bow before leaving the audience hall. I returned to my position seeing Daenerys was confused.

"Why did you do that?" She asked.

"Because I cannot go against religion," I answered, then looked at Missandei. "How many more?"

"There are 212 supplicants waiting, Your Grace," Missandei confirmed.

"212," Daenerys gawked.

I chuckled at her response and looked at Ser Jorah a bit surprised and amused at Daenerys response. I turned to Ser Barristan who merely shrugged. Being once a member of the Kingsguard he was used to standing on his feet all day and listen to nonsense.

"Well, this will be a long afternoon," I said. "Send the next one in."

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys felt emotionally exhausted after spending two days listening to the supplicant's statements. She did not know how Alysanne can hold the patience to sit there and listen then decide a solution to resolve a situation. One thing that got her was allowing the crucified Great Masters to be taken down for burial.

She enters her chambers after having dinner to find Daario Naharis standing in the solar lounge holding a bouquet of flowers. This confused her since the Apex was heavily guarded. The only people who have access to the Apex, was her, Alysanne, Missandei, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Grey Worm, and the assigned guards. No one was allowed inside unless invited by one of the Westerosi.

"How did you get in here?" Daenerys asked.

"Your door is well guarded, but your window is not," Daario answered.

Daenerys took a deep breath to suppress her annoyance as she walked over to him. She knows her sister will not approve of this. Wanting to keep security, since they are technically conquerors as their ancestors. Daario displays the flowers to her, of reds, white, and golds.

"I swam to an island a mile offshore for these," Daario murmured.

Daenerys shoved the flowers into his chest, "Don't do that again."

She walked over to the table prepping a glass of wine. Daario caressed the flowers as if they were a babe.

"Never met a woman who didn't like wildflowers," he said.

"These are my private quarters. If I want you here, I will summon you," Daenerys chastised.

Daario realizing his mistake bowed by bending the knee, "Forgive you, my princess. I live to serve you."

Daenerys sat down on the lounge watching him curiously. The past several months she enjoyed the flirtation. At the time when it started, she was not ready, mourning for her husband and son. Now, she has come to term and accepted it was time to move on. She was eighteen now, and her sister has given her liberty how to live her life. Only when it came to confirming the marriage of a potential husband, which she doesn't have her mind set on.

Although, she will admit she missed human contact. On rare nights, she could hear Alysanne moan as she made love to Ser Jorah. Though happy for her sister, it made the Mother of Dragons craving for intimacy. She tried resolving her needs by using her hands, obtaining small bliss, it was never enough. Now here was Daario Naharis offering his service. But she was not going to give him the satisfaction right away.

"Tell me why you're here," she murmured.

"I came to ask a favor," Daario said as he stood up. "I only have two talents in this world. War and women. You and your sister are staying here in Meereen to rule. That is a wise decision. I respect it. But here in Meereen, I cannot pursue my talents."

"I've ordered the Seconds sons to patrol the streets to stop the revenge killings," Daenerys reminded.

"You've ordered us to be night watchmen," Daario countered.

"And as for women, there are thousands in Meereen you can pursue," Daenerys continued cutting him off.

"There is only one," he smiled, gazing at her while taking a step forward. "and she does not want me."

Daenerys leaned back slightly still keeping her composure, "You swore me your sword."

"My sword is yours till the day I die."

"So, if I command you to stay in Meereen and patrol the streets?"

"I'll stay in Meereen and patrol the streets. Send me to kill your enemies. Any enemy anywhere. Let me do what I do best."

Daenerys thought about it. Knowing the Astapor and Yunkai situation, she could try to convince Daario and the Second Sons to take care of the problem. Alysanne did say if they break their word, she will come back with no mercy. But first, she has another idea that requires Daario's service.

"Very well. Do what you do best," she murmured. Grabbing the wine glass off the table and brought it to her lips while keeping her eyes on him. "Take off your clothes."

The Captain of the Seconds Sons smiled, setting the flowers on the table. He undressed before her, never breaking eye contact to her violet eyes. The shirt came off first, followed by his scarf, then finished with his breeches. He was a confident man, proud of his body, lean, toned and muscular in the right places. Daenerys examined him, seeing his chiseled chest and abs until going down staring at his penis already erect from a bush of coarse hairs. She was pleased with what she saw, taking a sip of wine.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

I was woken up early as the sun began to rise. With a yawn, I stared ahead seeing Jorah still asleep as his arm was under a pillow and its twin wrapped around me. He looked so much younger when he slept. All the years of war had caught up to him, including the years of exile and stress. As wrinkles slightly formed around his eyes, and the deep creases on his forehead. Although he jests saying, creases were something he inherited from his father. No matter how much he relaxes, Mormont men appeared older than they should.

I smiled softly, thinking about last night. We weren't highly intimate, as some people would assume of an older man and a young woman. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy our sex. But to spend the night with a glass of wine, sharing a conversation, and cuddling seems special. Last Night Jorah told me more stories about Bear Island. He hopes one day he can take me there to see his ancestral home, and Keep. The island beautiful and remote containing old gnarled oaks, tall pines, flowering thorn bushes, moss-covered stone, and steep hills with streams.

"Bear Island is rich in bears and trees, and poor in aught else," he murmured.

I pray that we will return to Westeros and one day he can return home. I tried not to think of the future when we do sail across the Narrow Sea and reclaim the Iron Throne. By then, I have to prepare the Seven Kingdoms for the Night King and the Army of the Dead. Whatever this creature wants, I have a feeling it will be a war of survival. One you never know who lives or who dies. Mentally shaking my head on that thought, praying that the people I love don't perish in the Great War that is to come.

Jorah stirred, groaning slightly as he opened his eyes. I chuckled somewhat before leaning over and peck him on the lips. He cradles my cheek kissing back in the soft gesture. Today wasn't a supplicant day, nor was it a training day. Usually, it is spent going over papers and documents to organize Meereen. However, with Astapor and Yunkai rebelling against the new order, I've been trying to figure out a way to resolve the issues without using violence…or at least the dragons. Cleon the Butcher, after getting reports in turning boys of Astapori into Unsullied must die. The reason why I attack Astapor was to end the ritual of turning an abused boy to a killer and force to slaughter a baby. The Yunkish…they are the ones I struggle with on deciding their punishment.

"It's too early to think," Jorah murmured, as he kissed my temple.

"It's never too early when I'm a queen," I sighed, tracing his chest. "I thought I establish two good councils and enough soldiers to run the two cities. I made a promise that if they fall back to the practice of slavery, I will return with a vengeance."

Jorah took a deep breath as he rubbed my back, the easiest solution is to kill all the higher-ranking masters and their sons to prevent revenge. However, that is not me. No matter what I do, it seems like I can't appease everyone. How did the old Valyrian go through this without wiping out the Old Ghiscari race? How on earth did Aegon do it, when he decided to Conquers Westeros? Probably flying Balerion around setting a reminder. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal are not big enough yet to fly or cause intimidation unless they start breathing fire.

"We better get ready for the day," I said, trying to get up however Jorah kept a stronghold. I chuckled slightly, "Come now, is my bear still tire. Should I fetch some honey to lure him out of his cave."

"I can think of a specific type of honey close by," he whispered, as his hand slithers down between my legs.

I smacked his hand away playfully. "Maybe tonight."

It was rare for him to be this playful. Yes, Jorah has his sarcastic remarks and counters. But to show his small perverted playful nature is a rare thing. Jorah merely smiled, as he sat up and stretched. We climbed out of bed and got ready for the day. Putting on a casual dress, that was long with a rushed high halter neckline and an open back. Along with a silver belt around the waistline as dragon tooth attached the extended link.

Jorah put on his usual attire, although this time he put on the shirt I have sewn for him a few weeks again. His previous shirt had worn, frail in certain areas that any moment now it would tear. So, I made him a new one, a replica of his previous since he was not one for the finery. Of course, I did put my initial on the back of his collar of a thread one shade lighter. Doubt he has noticed it.

Once dressed and groomed, we made our way to the council room. Just as we entered the corridor, Daario Naharis came out putting on his shirt. We all stop, as I looked at him wondering why he is in the Apex. There was no official council meeting, along with the fact he was coming down through the hall where Daenerys room was.

"My Queen," Daario greeted. "Jorah the Andal. Are you here to see the Princess?" He awkwardly made his way around us, as Daario patted Jorah's shoulder. "She's in a good mood."

Jorah scowled, not the one of jealousy, but one a father would make. Over the years, Jorah has become a father figure to Daenerys. Let alone, Daario doesn't hold the reputation of honor as a Westerosi knight. Taking a deep breath, we enter the council room, finding Daenerys hovering over a map. Her hair was down, but she wore a revealing dress, that barely covers her upper body, except for her breast.

"Khaleesi," Jorah announced.

"You're here early," Daenerys greeted, facing us.

"Later than some," Jorah chirped.

We made our way to the table.

"You don't approve?" She asked.

"It's not a question of approval, it's a question of trust," I answered.

"Both of you neither approve nor trust," Daenerys chuckled slightly.

"Why would I? the man's a sellsword," Jorah said.

"Didn't you fight for the Golden Company before pledging your sword to my brother?" Daenerys challenged.

"I did," Jorah confirmed.

"I trust you," she said.

"Daario Naharis killed his captains and humped their heads at your feet when grew tired of their commands." He reminded. "How could you ever have faith in a man like that?"

"I could never have faith in a man like Daario." She assured. "I have an idea, one that can help us with the rebels."

"And what plan is that?" I asked, taking a seat.

"We send Daario and the Second Sons to retake Yunkai," she answered.

"Without you or your sister to rule, Khaleesi, I fear the masters will simply bide their time, wait for the invaders to leave and reassert control." Jorah picked at her plan.

"That is why we order Daario to execute every master in Yunkai." She said.

Jorah and I looked at her, our bodies tensed. It is one plan, but the idea sounded like Father.

"The masters tear babies from their mothers' arms. They mutilate little boys by the thousands. They train little girls in the art of pleasuring old men. They treat men like beasts, as you said yourself, Jorah." She explained, very determine in her eyes while crossing her arms.

"You're talking about genocide," I breathed.

"Herding the masters into pens and slaughtering them by the thousands is also treating men like beast," Jorah agreed, as he pressed both hands on the table and leaned in serious. "The slaves you two had freed, brutality is all they've ever known. If you want them to know something else, you have to show it to them."

"And repay the slavers with what? Kindness? A fine? A Stern warning?" she mockingly asked.

"It's tempting to see our enemies as evil, all of them, but there's good and evil on both sides in every war ever fought," I said.

"Let the priests argue over good and evil," she snipped. "Slavery is real. We can end it. We will end it, and those behind it. You were a slave to Viserys."

I stood up and walked over to Daenerys. Towering over her by a few inches. My eyes narrow giving her a warning look not to go there. "You were never a slave. Your marriage was a political alliance, one Viserys miscalculated in. You were given a husband who cared about you. So, don't you ever, ever, act like you understand slavery personally."

Daenerys looked down realizing she crossed the line. We can agree that slavery is wrong and should be abolished, but she cannot act like she has been a slave. There is a difference between sold in a political marriage and being sold for profit. Was I a slave to Viserys? By definition no, but I was captured by my own brother, raped and defile, and spent five years as his sister-wife as the chains took the form of a golden ring. When Khal Drogo removed that ring and Viserys received his golden crown was I liberated from the abusive marriage. I sold my soul so Daenerys wouldn't be Viserys sister-wife.

"I sold men into slavery, Khaleesi," Jorah spoke to break the tension.

Daenerys walked around taking Jorah's hand, "And now you are helping us show them to freedom."

"I wouldn't be here to help you if Ned Stark had done to me what you want to do to the masters of Yunkai," Jorah said.

Daenerys sighed realizing that she has lost the battle. As much as eradicating the Wise Master is an easy solution there is no morality. Not all of them evil, as the original Great Masters, proved that from the fifty-three men who denounce such an action. Then a thought came up. The new leader of one Great Master family who showed diplomacy and empathy the other day.

"I have an idea," I announced, gaining both of their attention. "Hizdahr zo Loraq will accompany the Second Sons and serve as our ambassador to Yunkai and Astapor. He will tell the masters what has happened in Meereen. He will explain the choice they have before them. They can live in our new world, or they can die in their old one. This will be their only final warning."

"And for Cleon?" Daenerys asked.

"I'm sure Daario will enjoy his match," I answered.

Daenerys smiled slightly, seeing I made a compromise to her plan and Ser Jorah's words of wisdom. Jorah smiled, nodding in approval of my decision.

"Ser Jorah, go and catch Daario and explain to him of the new plan," I informed him.

"Yes, Alysanne," Jorah said.

He gave a bow and left leaving us alone. Daenerys turned around facing me. She stood there slightly nervous, knowing I wasn't pleased about her plan. For a moment, I thought I saw Father in her. Not by appearance, or the desire to use Wildfire, but the quick decision to execute people.

"Who am I?" I asked her. "Who am I!"

Daenerys was confused, "Queen Alysanne."

"And who are you?" I asked her.

"Daenerys Stormborn," she answered.

"Who are you?" I repeated again wanting the correct answer. "The name our mother gave you."

"Daenerys Targaryen," she mumbled.

"And what are you?" I continued, grabbing her shoulder looking her hard in the eye.

"A princess," she manages to say.

"You may had been a Khaleesi, but if we had followed tradition, you would've been sent to Vaes Dothrak to become a Dosh Khaleen. You and your khalasar are under my protection. How did Robert's Rebellion start?"

"Because Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark," she replied.

"And…"

"Father burned the Warden of the North and his son…and order the death of others…."

"What you suggested, is what father did during his reign. He made Houses go extinct. Butchering and burning, men, women, and children to set an example. The same as Tywin Lannister, who obliterated House Reyne and made an example of their children on the walls of Casterly Rock. We are not Tyrants. We are leaders, we are rulers, do you want the people to fear us or respect us?"

She opens her mouth to answer then closed it.

"As much as I would want us to go home back to Westeros, my goal in life is to restore House Targaryen name. If I were to die without children, I need to know that you are capable of that responsibility. And right now, if you think Fire and Blood is the answer to everything, then you are mistaken. So far, five kings were deemed mad, do you want to be the first Mad Queen?"

Daenerys shook her head.

"Then you must think three steps ahead," I said, then hugged her. "I love you, Daenerys, you are my sister and child. I don't want history repeating itself."

Daenerys wrapped her arms around me and nodded.

It seems I have to teach her more. I understand she was trying to help; however, genocide is not the answer.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	30. Chapter 30: The Betrayal

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: As you all know, on April 28, 2019, Season 8 Episode 3: **_**The Long Night.**_** A lot of characters died. May we have a moment of silence for the fallen who gave their lives for humanity. . .**_

_**Now, I want to address that in fanfiction the Characters who died in the Long Night may or may not perish in my story. I wanted to point that out. When you read this, please do not leave a review that will spoil others who haven't watch the episode.**_

* * *

**Chapter 30: The Betrayal**

_Alysanne's POV_

I shot up awake having a nightmare that felt so real. My throat was tight, body tensed while at the same time trembling. My breathing hyperventilating. Sweat covering my body. Everything felt so cold, even though the air was warm. The sudden motion caused Jorah to wake as he sat up and looked at me confused.

"Alysanne," Jorah cautiously murmured, carefully putting his hands on my shoulder. "Breathe."

I tried to breathe, but I couldn't. It was like my throat was constricted to suppress a scream. The dream…no…nightmare felt so real. I was up in the sky, along with Daenerys on our dragons, including another dragon rider. All around it was dark as night while down below was a fortress surrounded by fire and snow. Inside the fortress was a tall white tree with red leaves. But that wasn't the only thing that was happening, as men of different ethnicities guarded the keep while across the field was a mass of darkness until a blizzard poured over impossible to see. Daenerys swooped down on Drogon, while Viserion and Rhaegal took to the sky. That was when I saw a dragon made of ice. It soon became a dance of the dragon, until Viserion was entangled with the ice dragon when all of a sudden, I was falling. Rhaegal attempted to catch me, as his dragon rider reached out. In all the darkness and snow, the face of Rhaegar cried out my name.

However, I fell to my death and the moment of impact woken me.

It felt so real.

"You're freezing," Jorah said shocked, after touching my shoulder.

Jorah tried talking to me. Yet the shock had a tight hold. Unable to respond to him. Instead of fetching for a healer, Jorah adjusted himself, so he was behind me. He wrapped his arms pressing me to his form while securing my head to his chest hearing his heartbeat.

"Follow my breathing, listen to my heartbeat," he murmured.

He took a deep breath, causing his chest to expand then exhale. His heartbeat even at a steady pace. I listen carefully, attempting to mimic his breathing. After a while, my body calmed down and breathing back to normal. Gazing out through the balcony, it was still night time as the stars cover the dark sky.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

"You want to talk about it?" he offered.

I shook my head, "Just another nightmare."

"From the Undying visions?" he guessed.

"Something like that," I mumbled.

I haven't had a nightmare so realistic that it woke me up like that since arriving at Astapor. I assumed the nights from the House of the Undying Stop because they have happened or I understood what they meant. Otherwise, my dreams were simple, the rare visits from Visenya, or simply nothing. Although, the dream of the House with the Red door pops up. The life in Braavos, only I was an adult watching a little boy trying to climb the tree. He had a fair complexion, vibrant golden-white hair that appears more gold, and indigo eyes. He would shout for me to watch him until spotting someone shouting "Dad!", Jumping down and rushing to the entrance. Before I could see the man's face, I would wake.

"You know you can tell me anything," he reminded.

However, I don't tell him everything. I don't tell him about my dreams that weren't related to the Undying visions. He doesn't know of the Braavos dream. And I will definitely not tell him about Visenya. If I told him that I've been communicating with my ancestral aunt who's preparing me for the Great War, he'd think I've gone mad. But this dream…

I sighed curling into his chest, "I was in somewhere cold, it was a new moon night, and a blizzard consumed a land where a fortress was. Center inside was a white tree with red leaves. The dragons were big enough to ride. Daenerys rode Drogon into the darkness while I was on Viserion flying into the blizzard with Rhaegal and his rider. The rider whose face resembled Rhaegar. We were searching for something until we were fighting against a fourth dragon made of ice. It attacks Viserion…he tried fighting it off…it happened so fast…one minute I was on Viserion and the next I was falling. The third dragon rider tried to catch me…but it was too late."

"It was only a dream," Jorah assured, combing my hair.

"Real enough to freeze my blood," I sighed, then the thought occurred. The man who resembled Rhaegar. I had to ask, "Whatever happen to my brother after the Battle of the Tridents?"

Jorah tensed, securing me in his hold, "He was given a traditional Targaryen funeral. On a pyre surrounded by his loyalist. Once his body turned to ash, Lord Jon Arryn had his remains kept in the Great Sept of Baelor, next to his family."

"So, there is no chance he is still alive," I sighed. "Foolish of me to think of such silliness."

"We all wish to see our fallen loved ones," Jorah said.

I simply nodded then yawned.

"Rest, Alysanne," he murmured kissing the top of my head. "You have training."

"Already exhausted from you in bed," I jested.

His chest rumbled as a chuckled escape his lips. He may not have the same endurance when he was younger, but his years of experience has made him skillful. Not once have I gone to bed without being satisfied. Leaning up I gave him a kiss. Nothing passionate, but loving and gentle. He kissed me back in the same manner before sleep consumed us. The nightmare vanished, leaving us in peace.

**.o0o.**

_Missandei's POV_

The translator of Naath decided to wash by the river with all the other ladies. She knows she has access to the Apex baths in the pyramid. However, all her life she bathed by running water. It brought small memories of bathing in the stream with her two brothers while her mother tried to corral them both clean. She sighed, knowing her family was dead. When the pirates took her, her mother was sick, her father was killed, and her two brothers turned Unsullied before they were bought to Qohor guards. It was best for her to think they were all dead instead of wondering if they were still alive or not.

She stripped in the women section, as the free woman stripped, washing and bathing. Many who said, it was hard to break a habit. Especially on a lovely sunny day. She smiled, washing her skin in the soothing water. Afterward, grabbing her traveling clothes and began to wash them as well. As she was doing so, she felt eyes on her. She knows it wasn't one of the ladies who were busy in their wash.

Looking up, she saw a head floating at the curve of the stream. Missandei realized it was Grey Worm. His face neutral, yet the way his dark eyes stared at her stirred something inside. When he realized he was caught, he tried looking away but stopped continuing to stare. The translator nervous, stood up allowing him a full view of her body, though kept the cloth over her private. When there was no physical reaction that she could see, she covers her chest. Grey Worm gasped, ducking into the water swimming away.

Missandei found it strange. Back in Astapor the Unsullied showed little interest to women. When in rotation, they acted like any person was not there except for a Master. Many women in different attires did not catch their attention. So, to see Grey Worm appeared…interested…flattered her. Since he stares was not of lust. Although, she knows the Unsullied are bound to the spear and shield.

Once done with her wash, she made her way back to the Pyramid to greet her Queen and Khaleesi. Alysanne was manipulating Daenerys hair into braids. Missandei noticed there were some shadow under her queens' eyes and wonder if she was not sleeping well again. Her thoughts were interrupted when Daenerys insisted on doing her hair. Missandei kindly declined by the princess insisted.

Giving up, Missandei sat on the lounge while Daenerys started manipulating her frizzy hair to form a band.

"Something is on your mind?" Alysanne asked.

"It's nothing, your grace," Missandei assured.

Alysanne leaned over taking her hand, "In private when not in service you are free to be yourself."

Missandei sighed, as she told her ladies what transpired at the river.

"You think he was spying on you?" Daenerys asked.

"No, not spying," she answered.

"The Dothraki think outsiders are ridiculous taking shame in the naked body. They make love under the stars for the whole khalasar to see." Daenerys added.

"Yes, Your Highness," she mumbled.

"But you are not Dothraki," Daenerys concluded.

Missandei looked down, "No."

"Well, I don't see why it matters. Grey Worm isn't interested." Alysanne said. "None of the Unsullied care what's under our clothes."

"He was interested," she mumbled.

Both Dragon sisters paused looking at her. Both saying, "What?"

"I believe he was interested," she repeated.

"When the slavers castrate the boys, do they take all of it?" Daenerys asked.

"All of it?" She asked, not sure what the princess meant.

"The…the pillar and the stones," Daenerys clarified.

Missandei paused trying to remember what Master Kraznys said. On some occasions, he mentions cutting off their balls, but on other times the crude master said they were now women.

"I don't know, Your Highness." She said.

"Well, if I recall correctly, castration is the removal of the testicles. Emasculation is the entire genitals. But over the years…everyone says castration." Alysanne said.

"Haven't you ever wondered?" Daenerys asked.

The Naathi paused, "Yes, your highness."

She was curious in why Grey Worm was interested in her. Over the months from their lessons, he was opened to her about his opinion…in his kind of way. Since the Masters stripped away his personality from the years of abuse. However, she could see so many emotions in his dark eyes.

All day was spent aiding Alysanne. The Great Masters try to make things difficult for the Dragon Queen by writing their letters in Ghriscari or mixed between Ghriscari and Low Valyrian. Missandei was happy to translate. Even helping the Queen write a dictionary, should Alysanne need to read a document and Missandei was not here to help.

By afternoon, she was dismissed to enjoy her leisure time. Missandei made her way to the Audience Hall, knowing it was a quick route to the Apex. The Audience Hall was empty, no guards since it wasn't a supplicant day. Just as she reached the middle platform, she heard footsteps.

"Missandei," Grey Worm called out.

The Naathi turned facing Grey Worm who stood at the bottom of the steps in his usual armor. He looked down ashamed, like a boy who was caught stealing a sweet.

"_I have come to apologize,"_ he apologized.

"_You don't need to apologize_," she assured him.

"_I hope I didn't frighten you_," he said.

"_No_," she said.

Grey Worm looked up at her, "The lessons you give I in Common Tongue, these are precious to I."

"To me," Missandei smiled, couldn't help but correct him on his grammar.

"To me," Grey Worm repeated.

"I don't remember teaching you the word 'precious.'" She said impressed.

"Jorah the Andal, he teaches I . . . He teaches me this word."

Missandei nodded, then a thought lingers with the Dragon Sisters. "Do you remember the name you were given at birth?"

Grey Worm shook his head, "I remember nothing. Only Unsullied."

"When they cut you, do you remember that?"

Grey Worm shook his head.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I'm sorry they did that to you."

"Why?" he asked. "Why sorry?"

"It's a terrible thing to do to a boy." She explained.

Grey Worm walked up to the steps till standing on the lower platform, "If the Masters never cut me, I never am Unsullied. I never stand in the Plaza of Pride when Alysanne Targaryen orders us to kill the Masters. I never am chosen to lead the Unsullied. I never meet Missandei from the island of Naath."

He looked into her eyes, seeing the twitch of surprise while her face kept its composure.

"I am sorry . . ." He started then stopped. "For today, I am sorry."

He bobbed his head then turned to leave.

"_Torgo Nudho_," Missandei called out using his Valyrian name.

Grey Worm stopped looking at her.

"_I'm glad you saw me,"_ she said.

"_So am I,"_ he replied, a twitched of his lip as if he tried to smile but couldn't. With nothing else to say, he left to go on patrol.

Missandei stood there grasping what she has said. She knows her queen will allow her and her army the choice in how to live their lives. They were no longer slaves nor do they have a contract. If there were something to form between her and Grey Worm, they would almost have everything else a full future of their own flesh and blood. Having her terrible experience in physical intimacy, she would not mind that.

**.o0o.**

_The Two Knights POV_

Ser Barristan was attending the extraction of the guilty party of Great Master's bodies. The Unsullied carefully removed the corpse from the posts onto the carts where the remains will be taken to the Temple of Graces. The older knight would have recommended mercy, so all the men were alive. But he was proud of the method Alysanne went. She answered injustice with justice, by giving the Great Masters a trial, finding evidence and allowing men to petition on the accused behalf. It was not an accurate trial, but Ser Barristan knows his Queen will learn and perform it correctly the next time.

Seeing that the Unsullied had this handle, he started making his way to the Great Pyramid.

"Ser Barristan," a boy called out.

He stopped turning around to see a lower-class boy. At first, he thought the child might have a curious question. Ever since resigning in Meereen, children who were able to learn Common Tongue would come up to ask about knights and his homeland. The Bold doesn't mind sparing a moment to see the awe in a child's eyes.

"Yes?" Ser Barristan replied.

However, he was handed a scroll. Ser Barristan could tell by the shade in color of the scroll it was not from Ghriscari or this far east province. Since Ghriscari paper held a yellow tint to it. It appeared to be from the west.

"Who sent you?" he asked.

The boy turned the scroll around revealing the red wax seal with the sigil of the Hand of the King. Ser Barristan took it then looked at the boy who ran away. Realizing it was one of Varys's little birds. The older knight broke the seal and read it. What he read was a declaration pardon signed by Robert Baratheon on the year before he died. It wasn't addressed to him since Robert Baratheon was dead when the once Lord Commander of the Kingsguard left Westeros. It was addressed to Ser Jorah Mormont.

Ser Barristan the Bold took a deep breath. This was not good. As his Queen was happy in her relationship with Ser Jorah. He could see it every time they were together. It reminded him of his old infatuation with Lady Ashara Dayne. Even though they could never be together since he was a sworn brother of the Kingsguard, relinquish his right of marriage and fathering legitimate children. But that one week during the tourney at Harrenhal was enough. Now the pardon laid suspicions on why Ser Jorah was given it. Knowing the exile knight left Westeros to avoid execution after selling slaves. The Bear knight earned redemption seeing Jorah fighting for their queen. Unfortunately, Barristan is bound to protect the Queen, even it will cause pain.

Instead of going to Alysanne, he went to search for Ser Jorah. It's the decency he can do for the knight.

Meanwhile, Jorah was at one of the lower terraces examining a map. He was getting a head start on preparation for their return to Westeros. It may be years, but Jorah wants to be prepared on presenting ideas for Alysanne. As she stated many times, it's better to be three steps ahead. Jorah's thought lingers to his lover. Thinking about the nightmare she had. It had him slightly concern in the risk of dragon riding but knew there is nothing that will not stop the Dragon Sisters from riding when the dragons are big enough. Already, Drogon was the size of a horse. Still, the moment Alysanne woke with fright, he felt her skin being ice cold as if she was in snowy weather.

Ever since Qarth, Jorah noticed a change in his Queen. Whatever she saw in the House of the Undying, these visions were devastating that she is taking every precaution. He tried to convince her that they were nothing but illusions conspire by the warlocks…until the news of the Red Wedding arrived.

_You may find Westeros a more savage plan than you remember_, he thought.

As long as he is by Alysanne side, he will protect her with all his worth. She was the blood of his blood. Making that vow since Vaes Dothrak before Viserys death. The woman who stood against her brother-husband as he pointed a blade at Daenerys pregnant belly, only to be shoved into the fire not having a single burn. And what happened to Daenerys when she walked into Khal Drogo's funeral pyre and be found unharmed the next morning with three baby dragons. Jorah thought of himself as a cynic, but after what he has witnessed in the past couple of years, he believes in everything.

He glanced at the map of Meereen, analyzing the Narrow Seas until stopping at King's Landing. It would be a five-month journey unless the winds were on their side. All they need are enough ships and armies to secure a stronghold to sack King's Landing and the Crownlands. Footsteps could be heard, as he looked up seeing Ser Barristan walking over.

"Ser Barristan," Jorah greeted.

"Ser Jorah," Barristan replied.

"Have I forgotten a council meeting?" Jorah asked.

The two barely socialize, the only time seen together is during Alysanne's training, the Audience Hall, or a council meeting. Since Jorah knew the older knight frown upon his intimate relationship with the Queen. Even though it was Alysanne, who asked Jorah to stay in her chambers.

"No," Barristan answered, handing him the scroll.

Jorah glanced at it, until seeing the red wax seal with the Hand of the King sigil. He felt his heart stopped and a tightness in his stomach. The last time he saw this parchment was in Vaes Dothrak, after burning the content when choosing the Dragon Sisters over his pardon. It can't be the same one. It has to be a trick. Jorah glanced at Barristan who held a solemn face.

"What's this?" Jorah asked.

"A royal pardon signed by Robert Baratheon," Barristan answered.

Jorah picked it up and read the words. It looked exactly like the previous one. Including Robert Baratheon signature. So, unless the Crown was smart to make copies or this document was forged. Jorah tried to keep his composure, though small twitches and hands shaken could be noticed.

"You spied on them," Barristan accused.

Jorah took a deep breath, "Who gave you this?"

"Does it matter?" Barristan replied having a hand out requesting the document back.

Jorah stared at him and his hand, before conceding giving it back. "Have you told her?"

"I wanted to tell you first, man-to-man, rather than go behind your back," Barristan said.

"Let me speak with her in private," Jorah requested.

"You'll never be alone with her again," Barristan promised. Giving a look that if he tried anything, he would kill Ser Jorah without hesitation. As much as he respected the exile knight in protecting the Sisters…this document confirms his belief that Jorah is not worthy of being by Alysanne's side.

The exile knight stood there watching Ser Barristan leave to inform the Queen of this treachery. He felt his world crumbling apart, that he would lose the woman he loved over a selfish decision before he got to know her. There may be some things Alysanne and Daenerys could forgive, but if they ask if he told Varys about the pregnancy…it would be the end. Rhaego was their chance to keep the Targaryen name alive since Drogo had no last name. If Jorah hadn't given this report, the assassins wouldn't have come, the Poisoner wouldn't haven't attempted to kill them in the Western Market. Khal Drogo wouldn't have seen the assassination attempt as an omen for war, and they wouldn't have gone south collecting slaves to trade with the slavers. They wouldn't have raided the shepherd village where they encounter Mirri Maz Duur.

Jorah took a deep breath knowing he needs to come up with an excuse. He loved Alysanne with all his heart. Far more than his first wife or Lyneese. A gentle heart with a warrior spirit.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I was in the terrace gardens with Daenerys as we were going over her lessons about Westeros. We accumulated books from a merchant. Once they were tested not be laced with poison, we went over its subject. As usual, Daenerys hated learning. She knows how to read and write; however, Westeros is not what Viserys or I remember. It has changed. It's best to know the Seven Kingdoms instead of going there with an empty mind. We were going over the history of the Reach when Ser Barristan came over.

"Ser Barristan, your house sigil is three stalks of wheat on a brownfield, does that make your House a Reachmen?" Daenerys asked.

"Stormlander, Your Highness," Ser Barristan corrected. "A common misconception of House sigils that are plant-based. Harvest Hall is in the Dornish Marches by the border."

"Oh," Daenerys said, fluster in her mistake.

I chuckled since it was a common misconception any coat of arms that have plants are from the Reach. Then I noticed Ser Barristan did not laugh. At first, I thought he was sparing Daenerys from her embarrassment. However, he had a serious look. One about difficult news.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

Ser Barristan handed me the scroll. I took hold of it and noticed the wax seal with the pressed mark of the Hand of the King. For a second, I thought it was an offer from Westeros, by the current Hand of the King by Tywin Lannister. Except that is not what I read. No, it was a pardon for Ser Jorah Mormont. Signed around the time we were in the Dothraki Sea. It does not give the contents in gratitude for the pardon. Only that it was signed by Robert Baratheon. I felt like somebody punched me in the chest.

"Is this real?" I whispered.

"In my years as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Lord Jon Arryn made it a habit to make three copies. Robert Baratheon did the same. This is one of three." Ser Barristan explained.

"It's signed the year we met," I managed to say. "During your time in Kings Landing was there any mention of Ser Jorah? Or any of the Mormonts."

"No, your grace, not from my position," Barristan confirmed.

"It could be a ruse by the Lannisters," I tried to believe.

"It might be, but we won't know unless he is confronted," Barristan advised.

I took a deep breath knowing that is the case. Doubt it would be wise to confront him privately; otherwise, the emotions I'm feeling now will summon Viserion in and kill the man. Reading the pardon one more time, I stood up.

"Summon Ser Jorah and the council into the Audience Hall," I ordered.

"As you command," Ser Barristan said, with a bow.

Daenerys stood up staring at my concern, "Alys…what's going on?"

"Ser Jorah might have betrayed us," I whispered.

I felt my heart tightening hoping this was all a lie. A trick by the Lannisters to get rid of my most loyal general. I pray to the Seven; it was that. However, unless he confirms this document isn't forged, I can't think of him as my lover. Still, my thoughts linger that I could have been sleeping with the enemy. Ever since Vaes Dothrak, I confided to him with things I could not say to Daenerys and Missandei. Let my emotions open and heart to him. I was in love with him, but have not said the words feeling like it was too soon.

And now…it would be a lie.

**.o0o.**

In the Audience Hall, I sat on the ebony bench. Daenerys and Missandei stood behind me while Ser Barristan and Grey Worm on the middle platform. Guards were in position, as a precaution if things get out of hand. It wasn't long as Ser Jorah entered the room. Instead of taking the lower platform where the supplicants stood, he partook the steps in between. He stood there, hands behind his back nervous.

"Why did the usurper pardon you?" I asked.

Jorah hesitated before saying, "If we could speak alone."

"No, speak to me here," I said. "Explain it to me."

"Who do you think sent this to Meereen? Who profits? This is the work of Tywin Lannister. He wants to divide us." Jorah explained. "If we're fighting each other, we're not fighting him."

"The pardon was signed the year we met." I reminded. "Why were your pardoned? Unless you're saying, this document was forged."

He paused staring at me yet his blue eyes showed fear, "It is not forged."

I clenched my hands, "Why?"

"I sent letters to Varys, the spymaster of King's Landing."

"What was the content of these letters?"

"Information."

"What information?"

"When you, Daenerys, and Viserys arrived in Pentos. His plan to marry Daenerys to Khal Drogo. When they were married. When your brother died." He listed.

"You told him I was carrying Drogo's child?" Daenerys asked, joining the conversation.

"I…" he started.

"Yes or no?" Daenerys demanded sternly.

"Khaleesi," he tried using her Dothraki title.

"Don't call me that," Daenerys snipped. "Did you tell him I was carrying Drogo's child?"

Jorah looked down, "Yes."

I stood up walking down the steps until was near his level but still stared down on him. "That wine merchant tried to poison us because of your information."

"I stopped you from drinking his wine," he defended.

"Because you knew it was poisoned," I countered, glaring into his eyes.

"I suspected," he said, lips trembled and eyes water.

"You betrayed us from the first," I managed to say feeling the anger stirring inside me.

"Forgive me," Jorah begged, bowing before me. "I never meant…please, Alysanne, forgive me."

"You sold our secrets to the men who killed my father and brother, and stolen my family's throne…and you want me to give you?"

"I have protected you… fought for you, kill for you," Jorah pleaded the same time I spoke.

I glared at him feeling the tears running down my cheek. He saw the tears and looked down ashamed.

"I have loved you," he whispered.

"Love?" I gasped. "Love? How can you say that to me?"

Knowing that Ser Jorah was a traitor and a risk for my campaign in returning to Westeros. The worse was that he did not tell me this before. If he had confessed to this misdeed in the beginning, I would have forgiven him. Demote him from the position, and allow him to earn his way back to the chain of command. Was that night in Astapor his attempt to tell me the truth? Either way, it has been many years and the damage being done.

"If you were someone else, I would've had you executed. But you, I don't want you in my city dead or alive," I declared. "Go back to Kings Landing. Collect your pardon, if you can. Enjoy your new position as Lord of Bear Island."

Jorah stood up, reaching over, "Alysanne, please."

I smacked his hand away, the sound of impact echoing across the stone chamber. Jorah was shocked by this.

"Don't _ever_ presume to touch me again or speak my name," I warned. "You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day, I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay."

Jorah was bewildered, slightly nodded.

"Get out," I seethed. "Now."

Unable to resolve this, Jorah stepped down and left to fetch his things. I ordered Grey Worm to follow him to be he doesn't do anything that might be suspicious or an act of revenge. Daenerys came over to give a hug, but I shoved her away walking up the steps to the council room wanting to be alone. My heart shattering that the man I love was a spy. Once inside in solitude, I fell on my knees and sobbed.

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah was escorted to the royal chambers as Grey Worm, and three other Unsullied stood by and watch. Not having much time before dusk, he put on his armor and took his pack filling it with his personal items. He felt numb inside, knowing he caused pain to Alysanne. The look on her face, the tears were enough to show the damage was done. Tywin Lannister won a battle, even though it was set years ago back in Robert's Baratheon reign. Before he fell in love with the Dragoness.

Grabbing his sword, he stopped, seeing it as the blade that will always protect her. So, he left it on the bed. Jorah would have left a letter; however, Grey Worm informed him dusk was approaching. Sighing in defeat, he left his sword and left the royal chamber with his things. The Unsullied escorted him to the base of the pyramid where his horse was ready, with supplies. With dusk fast approaching he mounted his horse and left Meereen.

Exile from his home for the second time.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I stood at the balcony watching Ser Jorah leave the city. Not once did he look back. When he was out of sight, I stood there watching the scenery as the tears continue to fall. Memories of our years together, from the travels through the Dothraki Sea to now. The moments where our relationship started. When I thought I could find happiness, it was taken away from me again. I guess a Queen can never have true love.

By night, footsteps could be heard, knowing they were soft I assume it was Missandei or Daenerys.

"Your Grace," Missandei announced herself.

I did not respond.

Missandei came closer, "Can I bring you something to help you sleep?"

I did not respond.

"Forgive me for disturbing you," she whispered.

"Never betray me," I said.

Missandei looked at me, "Never."

Afterward, I went inside to my chambers. There I saw the sword on the bed. The sword he had since going into exile. The sword that fought for the Golden Company, fought for the Dothraki, fought for Daenerys and me. It killed the blood rider Qotho, it killed many soldiers during my campaign. The sword that was the extension of his arm. I walked over and picked it up. The tears and sobs returning.

A sound of crackling could be heard from the roof. Not long after Viserion climbed in through the balcony. He sensed my distress through the bond. Setting the sword down, I ran over to him hugging desperately. Viserion nudges me down, wrapping his wing around me in protection.

At least I can trust Viserion.

* * *

**We all had been dreading this. The day when Alysanne learns the truth of Jorah's betrayal.**

**What did you guys think?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	31. Chapter 31: A Broken Heart

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 31: A Broken Heart**

I don't know what is worse: betrayed by your own brother or by your own lover? What is worse, betrayed physically or emotionally. Right now, I feel the emotional betrayal winning. The worse I was in the room where we slept together unable to change everything. Still trapped in the emotions, mourning in what could have been. As I laid in bed clinging the pillow smelling what little scent was left of Jorah. A hopeless maiden.

Visenya words repeating in my head of my quest to Westeros.

"A war of life and death. Trials and tribulations, my dragoness. You shall go far south in the east; there you will meet the undying. They shall show you what is to come. Next, you shall sail north, in the land of harpies learning what it means to rule. Then, when the horses shall come, and krakens lend its ships, west you go. You will be tested, friends become enemies, enemies become friends, betrayed and heartbroken. A lioness shall challenge you, and a wolf shall support you. Listen to the white wolf, for he has seen what is to come."

Far south in the east where I will meet the Undying was Qarth. As the Undying Ones and warlocks showed me the visions that are to come. The Red Wedding, the symbolism of Westeros, Rhaegar and Elia, and the Great War. Next sailed to the land of the Harpies to learn how to rule, Slaver's Bay is that. The horses and krakens haven't shown up yet. But the second part gets the most. Friends become enemies and enemies become friends, betrayed and heartbroken.

She was talking about Jorah, he betrayed me and left me heartbroken.

All that remains is the lioness who will challenge the white wolf who will support me. The wolf who knows what is to come. There have been three Houses whose sigils obtains lions. House Lannister, House Grandison, and House Reyne. The golden, black, and red lions. House Reyne was extinct, House Grandison holds no ill in tempting, therefore without a doubt, it was House Lannister. There were many female Lannisters, but one who is considered a threat is Cersei Lannister. Based on Ser Barristan information about the Queen Regent, can only be summarized in few words…she's a bitch.

As for the wolf. I don't recall any houses that have a white wolf or wolves except for one. The direwolf house, House Stark. Lord Eddard Stark is dead, along with his three sons. Robb Stark murdered at the Red Wedding, and the youngest Bran and Rickon Stark killed by the Greyjoys at Winterfell. If it was a woman Visenya was talking about it would make sense with Lady Sansa. However, Visenya said, "he." Ser Barristan did mention that Ned Stark did have a bastard son, name Jon Snow who is now a member of the Nights Watch.

I sighed…covering my face. The world pulling me about in the act of survival for all.

_"In the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are fields of ghost grass with stalks as pale as milk that glows in the night. It murders all other grass. The Dothraki believe that one day it will cover everything – that's the way the world will end,"_ Jorah's voice whispered in my head.

The Great War predicted all over the world from Westeros all the way to Essos. From the legends of the Long Night. Remembering in Volantis a Red Priestess talking about the return of the prince that was promised. The reincarnation of Azor Ahai. History repeating itself, and the Lord of Light religion praising the Long Nights return.

I seriously don't want to partake in this war. Not after having that dream about the Ice Dragon. Ser Willem used to tell a story about the Ice Dragons, how they used to resign in the Shivering Sea along with Frozen Wilderness called the White Waste. Long ago, an Ice Dragon soared to the North, Bran the Builder captures the dragon to forge the Wall with its frozen breath before sealing it inside its domain. Viserys would laugh saying that is not possible. Then again, tales from the Age of Heroes are not always accurate.

It wasn't long when all the distraction of thinking brought me back to a broken heart. Viserion who was in the room crawled over resting his head on my stomach. I petted the back of his head, feeling the scales, horns, and quills. Viserion gave a purred nuzzling into me more.

"Why can't you be big enough to fly me away from the madness and pain?" I murmured. "Or be human to steal my heart from others."

Viserion gave a slight chuckle.

"You're mocking me," I muttered.

Suddenly Viserion was on top of me, the majority of his weight pressing me down on the mattress. The bed creaks from the weight as if it was ready to collapse under our weight.

"Get off me, your fat lizard," I growled.

Viserion chuckled as he climbed off, resting his head on the mattress next to my own. His amber eyes filled with mirth along with concern. My heart is broken by Jorah's deception. I was in love with him, he said he was in love with me. In the end, we were not meant to be. It's probably for the best. I was a queen, and he was an exiled knight from a small house. It was stupid of me to think of a future with Jorah. My potential husband has to forge an alliance either with a Great House or another monarch. My eyes water, knowing I have to sacrifice my happiness for the good of the realm. Just as my mother gave up her happiness to please her father over a stupid prophecy.

A knock of the door broke my concentration. It was Daenerys as she came over, sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing my back.

"Alys," Daenerys murmured.

"Yes?" I replied.

"Please come out," she said. "The people need you. Whispers spreading that you are sick."

"Doubt a broken heart is considered a sickness," I sighed sitting up. "But you are right. It's time to end this wallowing and move on."

Daenerys took my hand, "You were given a moment of happiness. Better than Viserys. You will find love once again. I know you will."

"Dear sister, you are too kind," I murmured, kissing her hand and got up.

Daenerys called in Missandei as they both helped me dress for the day. Stripping the clothes, I wore three days ago, brushing my hair, and applying perfumes. Once dressed for the day, the two had me eat some food, before going down to the Council room where a meeting was set. Receiving a falcon that Daario and Hizdahr zo Loraq on their whereabouts. The number of street fights. And all the daily news.

By afternoon, I took part in the Audience Hall for the supplicants. Daenerys took a seat next to me while Ser Barristan and Missandei took their place. Time went on when one Supplicant caught my attention. It was an elderly man.

"_You stand before Alysanne Targaryen, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Breaker of Chains and Dragoness of the West_," Missandei introduced, along with Daenerys titles.

"_Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace. My name is Fennesz,_" the older man said. "I can speak the Common Tongue if you wish."

I smiled, surprised in a good way. "You speak it very well."

"Before you freed me, I belonged to Master Mighdal. I was a tutor to his children. I taught them languages and history. They know a great deal about your family because of me." Fennesz said. "Little Calla is only seven, but she admires you very much."

"I hope I can prove worthy of her admiration," I said. "What can I do for you?"

Fennesz took a deep breath, "When you took the city, the children begged me not to leave the house. But Master Mighdal and I agreed that I must. So, I lost my home. Now I live on the streets."

"I have outfitted mess halls to feed all former slaves and barracks to shelter them," Daenerys reminded.

"I do not mean to offend, Your Highness." Fennesz interrupted. "I went to one of these places. The young prey on the old, take what they want and beat us if we resist."

"Thank you for bringing the issue up, Fennesz," I said. "I'll ensure that the Unsullied will make them safe again in short order."

"Even if they are safe, who would I be there? What purpose would I serve?" Fennesz asked. "With my master, I was a teacher. I had the respect and love of his children."

"What is it you ask from me?" I replied.

"Your Grace, I ask you to let me sell myself back to Master Mighdal," he said.

"You want to return to a man who owned you like a goat or a chair?" Daenerys asked surprised.

"Please, Your Grace. The young may rejoice in the new world you have built for them, but for those of us too old to change, there is only fear and squalor. I am not alone. There are many outside waiting to beg the same of you." He said.

"We did not take this city to preside over the injustice I fought to destroy. I took it to bring people freedom." I said. Fennesz sighed looking down. "But freedom means making your own choices. Your trade is a teacher, correct?"

"Correct, your grace," Fennesz confirmed.

"You may go back to Master Mighdal not as a slave but as a hired tutor. I will allow you to sign a contract with your former master. It may not cover a period lasting longer than three years. In the contract, he must provide you food, board, and wages. After three years, you will decide to renew the contract or retire." I proposed. "Return to me once the contract has been made. So, I can sanction it as lawful."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Fennesz said, with a bow.

"If Calla weren't so interested in your teachings, I would have hired you, my friend," I murmured.

"It would have been an honor," Fennesz smiled, before leaving.

"The masters will take advantage of this situation," Ser Barristan murmured in my ear. "The men serving them will be slaves in all but name.

"As long as I see the contract, and check on my subjects it would be difficult for them to take advantage." I said. "the freemen need jobs. There is a trade that should not go to waste. If they rely on us heavily, when we leave for Westeros, then all the efforts will fall back to chaos. They can't be dependent on us."

Ser Barristan nodded realizing I made a fair point.

The next supplicant came in, a shepherd carrying something wrapped in rags. His face frail, eyes red, and cheeks stained.

"_My dear friend, what is wrong?"_ I asked.

The man reached the middle platform and burst into tears explaining what was wrong. His devastation and sorrow jumbling his words. Missandei took over on translation, "I have brought you…He came from the sky. The black one. The winged shadow. He came from the sky and…My girl. My little girl."

The shepherd knelt down presenting the contents he held. Removing the rags to reveal a chard skeleton of a child. The man wailed and weep. Cradling the skull as if she were still alive, caressing her cheek. All the warmth left my system, feeling the man's sorrow of the loss of a child. I got up and came down to his level and held him in my arms.

"_I am so terribly sorry, my dear friend,"_ I murmured. "_No child or parent should go through the pain you have suffered. I will pay all the expensive and compensate you_."

The man continues to weep while I looked up at Daenerys. Drogon killing livestock is one thing that can be easily handled. However, the life of a human, especially a child crosses the line. The dragons are bonded to the riders. Daenerys being young and distaste for the Masters are noted. Daenerys sat there shocked that it was her dragons doing.

**.o0o.**

After the experience with the shepherd and his deceased daughter the Council was assembled. This was not good. Drogon has taken a life by his own accord. Not by a command. The worse being that the victim was a child. The Great Masters would take advantage of this tragic event.

"What was her name?" Daenerys asked.

"Zala, Your Highness," Missandei answered.

"How old was she?" Daenerys asked.

"Three," Missandei answered.

"Three," I whispered. Then looked at Grey Worm. "_And still no word of Drogon?"_

"_Sailors saw him flying over the Black Cliffs three days ago, my Queen."_ Grey Worm answered. "_Nothing since."_

"And Rhaegal?" I asked.

"_He is seen by the Skahazadhan river, sleeps mainly."_ Grey Worm said.

I nodded, "And Viserion has been by my side for the last three days."

"What shall we do?" Ser Barristan asked.

"We should lock them away for the time being," Daenerys suggested. "Until we can resolve this."

"_Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor_," I sneered. "A dragon is not a slave."

"Alysanne," Daenerys started.

"We are not punishing Viserion and Rhaegal for Drogon's actions." I interrupted. "This is on you. Drogon is your familiar, not Viserion or Rhaegal. Just because your title is Mother of Dragons, bringing them back from stone doesn't give you the right to take their freedom away."

"You can't be serious," she countered.

"I am," I said. "The dragons' bond to our personality. So, this impulsive behavior that Drogon inherited comes from you. Thus, control your dragon."

"I can't," Daenerys said.

"Then don't punish the others," I said with authority. "If we cage the dragons now, they will not eat properly, they will not grow properly, and they will hate us. The last thing Meereen needs is a spiteful dragon."

Daenerys sighed, though offended. She needs to understand the responsibility for these actions. A three-year-old girl is dead. It has been noted since living in Meereen that Drogon has been aggressive on his hunts. Having farmers and shepherds coming in daily for compensation. It came to the point that con-artist was coming that these supposed farmers need to swear to their gods before telling the truth. Knowing if they lie, they are punished. However, this is not a sheep or goat, or even a cow. We are talking about a child. Viserion is careful, Rhaegal is picky, but Drogon…he takes more of his namesake as stubborn blood fueled Dothraki screamer.

I excused myself leaving the Council chamber and return to quarters. I need to be alone right now to rectify this. No doubt the Great Masters and the Meereenese who despise me will take this tragic event to their advantage. Once alone, I remove my fineries and change into a robe. Many emotions were stirring inside not sure what to do. Usually, this is where Jorah comes in listening to my emotional dispute and reword what I feel so it was understandable. But Jorah is not here.

Going over to a chest, I open it seeing the objects that were inside. Picking up the sword and sat down on the ground. I traced the scarab along with the peacock feathers. What am I going to do? It's like no matter what I do, fate despise me. I can't make everyone happy. I can't help my sister understand dragons. I can't compensate every person who has a problem. And…I can't have a romantic partner who wouldn't betray me. It's like the world wants me to fail.

Visenya said I need to learn how to rule Meereen before I sail to Westeros. However, she had to throw me in the lion pit instead of easing my way up. Let alone the last dream I had…am I going to die in the Great War?

* * *

**Hey guys, I know this is a short chapter. Just wanted to wrap up season four before going into season five. Some ask about my other story, A Doe in a Lion's den. I'm still going to wait on it, to figure out where to go on the story plot. Because after watching the Long Night episode, I know I'm going to struggle writing that chapter. So please bear with me, as I figure out which characters are going North, who lives, who dies if there is going to be two epic battles or one. Remember in ADIALD, I have two Queens at war.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	32. Chapter 32: Concessions?

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 32: Concessions?**

_Five Months later_

_Alysanne's POV_

I needed to distract myself to avoid the ache in my chest. Over the past five months, I occupied myself on a tight schedule. The moment I wake, I did my training with Ser Barristan and Grey Worm. Next, do some paperwork, before eating lunch with Daenerys. Afterward, I would deal with the supplicants or be training the dragons. When evening comes, I do one more hour with Ser Barristan training, before going to sleep.

Visneya visits have been more frequent than they used to be. In the realm of Dragonstone, she would continue my training with swords and hand to hand combat or dragon training. Using Vhagar, she would teach me how to train the dragons to use on Viserion and Rhaegal. So, when I wake on days I don't deal with supplicants, I focus on the two. Viserion complied easily since we were bonded. Rhaegal slightly tricky, which is understandable since he has no rider. Yet the two submitted, receiving rewards in treats. We also made the catacombs in the pits their sanctuary. They are still at liberty to fly freely, hunt in their favorite areas, but at night they return to rest in the Dragon Pits. Where three hundred Unsullied keep watch to ensure everyone's safety. This method has prevented the death of innocence.

The only dragon who has been absent has been Drogon. It has been many weeks since he has last been seen from the fishermen or Dragon Post in the Ghiscari province. Even New Ghis has sent word of their sighting, under the trade we establish. At least he is not killing people…that I am aware of. Daenerys still feels guilty in what has happened, the death of Zala. We gave the girl a proper burial, which her father was thankful, yet there was blame. We spent so much time taking care of the Freemen and Masters that we forgot about the dragons. Daenerys tried to distract herself in her lessons as well, if not correcting the Mass Halls a Barracks that there was order. The violence has dropped drastically, yet there was a new problem.

There was a group who calls themselves The Sons of the Harpy. They cause trouble by vandalizing the streets, destroying property, and thieving. Petty Masters or Meereenese who instead use violence than leave the new order. Grey Worm and the Unsullied have to settle with these conflicts, though we have to be cautious if things escalated. There was tension in the air after the Freemen elected their representative for the Meereen Council. A young man name Mossador. As much as the young man had spirit, there is a fire stirring inside. He can speak out his mine, trying to understand the Western culture I was establishing on justice. Mossador wasn't pleased when I told the Great Master to make a council, and have one representing them for the Meereen Council. The Great Masters were taking their time since they were waiting for Hizdahr zo Loraq so he could have a say.

It would be a week or two before Hizdahr zo Loraq and Daario Naharis will return from their envoy. Astapor went as expected, a slight war between Cleon the Butcher and the Second Sons. In the end, Cleon was butchered by Daario and Hizdahr helped reestablish the Council. What is taking so long was the Yunkish since they were stubborn based on the reports. The head of the Yunkish Wise Master restoration was Razdal mo Eraz, even though his father Grazdan mo Eraz surrendered and agreed to my terms. Grazdan was the one who tried to make a truce between the Wise Masters and I. Apparently, a few months ago Grazdan had a stroke, making him unable to perform diligently as one of the Council members.

Hopefully, Hizdahr zo Loraq has arranged terms and peace. Although, I have a feeling the Wise Master will try a compromise. I was already making a new law about contracts. Many freemen found jobs in the service and servants, stable boys, cattle masters, and other laboring position that did not involve the harvest. Of course, those types of contracts serve under one-year terms which will be renewed based on the employee. Not a slave. Employee. I was deliberating the concept of employer and employee so that Master and Slave is wiped away from their vocabulary. Already Fennesz gives an excellent example of how the contract work. When Fennesz and Master Mighdal arrived presenting the contract, as board and food are included, and a fair wage of a weekly payment, that allow the teacher to purchase property or save for his retirement. I even had the opportunity to meet Calla, who was in awe.

These distractions kept the sorrow in my heart away. Leaving me exhausted to not dream or think about Ser Jorah. Not opening the chest that held the items of gifts he gave me. I would wake, putting on a mask and try to keep moving forward. Currently, the Unsullied were taking down the Harpy statues off the Great Pyramid. It has been a long delay since the builders were going over the plans of removing the statue safely without damaging the pyramid and preventing injuries. I remember everyone jumping when hearing the harpy statue coming down not expecting it. Now that the figure was taken care of, others were removing the wings and horns, leaving the naked woman. Places that had the wings as supporting the faces of the statues were removed.

A goddess stood before Meereen, not a harpy.

The people prefer seeing a marble statue of a mother figure and not a harpy. The only exception in where the Harpy statue resides were in religious temples and the Pits. I can not wipe away everything, even though the freemen wanted it.

The following day, I was in the study going over paperwork when the Small Council came in. Something has happened, based on their faces. Ser Barristan informed me that one of the Unsullied officers was murder on his leave. Found dead in a brothel with his throat slit. Ser Barristan held a golden mask of a neutral face with horns.

"Son of the Harpy?" I assumed.

"Yes, Your Grace." Ser Barristan confirmed, setting the mask on my desk. "They left it on the body."

"They've never killed before," I sighed, standing up.

"It was only a matter of time, Your Grace. Conquerors always meet with resistance," Ser Barristan said.

"I didn't conquer them. Their own people did," I corrected. "I just provided the weapons."

"They do not see us as people, Your Grace," Mossador said.

"Then they will have to learn to see things differently, Mossador," I promised. "He did not risk his life fighting for his freedom so cowards in masks could take it away. And we did not take up residence in this pyramid to witness the city below decline into chaos. What was the name of the man you lost?"

"Timpa Genes," Grey Worm answered. "White Rat, Your Grace."

"We should have him buried with honor, publicly in the Temple of the Graces," Daenerys suggested.

Grey Worm and Mossador nodded.

"The Sons of the Harpy will hear that message," Ser Barristan said.

"Make them very angry," Mossador added.

"Angry snakes lash out," Daenerys murmured. "Makes chopping off their heads that much easier."

I sighed walking over to Ser Barristan and Grey Worm, "Find the men who did this and bring them to me. Hopefully, they have information that we can put an end to this ruckus. And most importantly trial them to give Timpa Genes justice. Also, have the Unsullied patrolling the streets. If we have the men on patrol, it will prevent the Sons of the Harpy from lashing out in public."

All the men nodded as they left.

And to think things were getting better, I thought, picking up the harpy mask.

**.o0o.**

_Grey Worm's POV_

Grey Worm was in the pyramids barracks where the Unsullied were preparing to go on patrol. All of his brothers were determined to find the Sons of the Harpy, especially the men who killed their brother, White Rat. What Princess Daenerys offered burial at the temple of the Graces, he was pleased, though he had to make sure the verses of their goddess is spoken. The Unsullied do not worship the Harpy, they worship the Great Goddess of the Unsullied, who goes by many names: The Lady of Spears, Bride of Battle, and Mother of Hosts. No one knows her actual name since her name belongs to those who burn off their manhood upon her alter. Those who do are the Ultimate Unsullied. Although, that practice is limited for the Ultimate Unsullied could die from infection if the ritual was not done right.

Otherwise, the Unsullied do their worship of purifying themselves in salt water. Confidently, the Lady of Spears have taken White Rat and gives her love to him. Many of his brothers think Alysanne was the Bride of Battle reincarnated in human form. To Grey Worm, he believes his Queen was sent to them by the Lady of Spears to use their skills the honorable way.

It was hard right now since White Rat died in his vulnerable state. Recently, the Unsullied have taken their days off either resting, strolling, or in the brothels. His brother found in the brothel, where he was seeking a woman's touch. An Unsullied cannot perform like any man, but they too crave a woman's touch. Some to feel their mother's warmth while others simply to be held. So Grey Worm will make sure White Rat killer is brought to justice.

One of his comrades came over helping him in his armor when he heard his name being called, "_Torgo Nudho."_

Grey Worm turned around smiling slightly to see, "_Missandei hin Naath_."

He wonders why she was here. Assuming she brings a message from their Queen or Princess.

"I wanted to speak with you?" Missandei asked.

The men grabbed their gears leaving the room to give privacy. Once Unsullied were gone, Grey worm looked at her, "Why do you come?"

"White Rat, the Unsullied who…I have heard they found his body in a brothel. I have heard that more than on Unsullied have been known to visit Meereen's brothels. May I ask you why?" she asked.

Grey Worm's eyes water slightly and face tensed. He blinks a few times to suppress the tears.

"Why would an Unsullied go to a brothel?" she asked.

"I do not know," he answered. "I must go."

Missandei nodded, stepping aside so he could leave. He grabbed his helmet and spear leaving the room. What the Unsullied do in the brothel was personal. Her asking him that, reminded him he was not suitable for her.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

A week later Hizdahr zo Loraq and Daario Naharis returned from their envoy. I sat on the ebony bench greeting the two. Daario went first announcing that Astapor has been freed from the liberation of the tyrant Cleon the Butcher. As he presented a massive cleaver the traitor once used in combat. I thank Daario in bringing order back to Astapor, and protecting the people from the brutality Cleon bestowed on them. Next was Hizdahr, as he stood on the steps presenting his reports.

"Our mission to Yunkai and Astapor was resounding success. The Wise Masters of Yunkai have agreed to cede power to a council of elders made up of both the freed men and the former slaveholders. All matters of consequence will be brought to you for review," Hizdahr reported.

"Excellent," I said. "I thank you, Hizdahr zo Loraq."

"They did ask for some concessions," he continued.

"Concessions?" I repeated.

"Politics is the art of compromise, Your Grace." He said.

"I'm not a politician," I reminded. "I am a queen."

I could somewhat hear a slight chuckle from Ser Barristan. It sounded of patted breathing that someone would consider it so. When it was just his way of suppressing a laugh.

"Forgive me. You're right, of course." Hizdahr said. "Still, it's easier to rule happy subjects than angry ones."

"We don't expect the Wise Masters to be happy," Daenerys said. "Slavery made them rich. We ended slavery."

"They do not ask for the return of slavery. They ask for the reopening of the fighting pits," he clarified.

"The fighting pits?" I asked. "Where slaves fought slaves to the death? Fed to wild animals if they are weak?"

"In the new world that you've brought to us, free men would fight free men," he explained.

Daario grabbed his stiletto caressing the handle.

"The pit fighters you liberated, plead for this opportunity. Bring some here and ask them yourself." Hizdahr continued. "Opening them would show the people of Yunkai and Meereen that you respect their traditions."

"Tell me why the fighting pits are so special than a profit of death?" I asked him. "What traditions do blood on sand have for the Ghiscari?"

"Long ago, before the Valyrian Freehold, it was my ancestor's way for a blood sacrifice to the gods of Ghis. We do this to appease our gods for a good harvest, the river flows, and life." He answered.

"So instead of sacrificing a lamb, you slaughter men," Daenerys sneered.

I lifted my hand to silence her. I did make a promise not to suppress people of their religion. Seeing this was an offer, not a demand, I stared into Hizdahr eyes, "I will read the concession and meet the masters and talk with the previous champions on their perspective about it. But I can't give you a solid answer if the fighting pits will be open or not."

"The fact that you will consider it is much appreciated," Hizdahr said.

"Thank you, Hizdahr zo Loraq, you have done great deeds for the realm and your family," I said. "You are free to go."

Hizdahr gave a bow and left. Since there were no supplicants today, I stood up and left the Audience Hall. I needed some time to think about what the Masters were asking, and the replacement they are willing to change in order to keep the tradition.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys sat up after having sex with Daario. It has been many months since Daario left to deal with Cleon the Butcher and Yunkai. Seems the Captain of the Second Sons was satisfied from war, and now he and his lover are satisfied in bed. She watched Daario get up from bed to pour them some drinks.

"Whatever he wants from us, he's not going to get it," Daenerys said, securing a blanket to her chest. "If he really believes Alysanne is going to reopen the fighting pits…"

"She should reopen the fighting pits," Daario casually said.

This surprised Daenerys, "What?"

"My mother was a whore. I told you that," Daario said, pour the brandy into a glass chalice. "She liked to drink pear brandy. The older she got, the less she made selling her body, the more she wanted to drink." He returned to bed handing her a glass. "So, one day, when I was twelve, she sold me to a slaver she fucked the night before."

He clicks their glasses together.

"I'm sorry," Daenerys apologized.

"Why? I was a bad child." He murmured. "I wasn't big, but I was quick. And I loved to fight. So, they sold me to the man in Tolos who trained fighters for the pits. I had my first match when I was sixteen."

"You were sold into slavery, forced to fight to the death for the amusement of the masters, and you're defending the fighting pits?" She asked utterly baffled.

Daario took a few sips of his drink, then chuckle, "I'm only here because of those pits. I learned to fight like a Dothraki screamer, a Norvoshi priest, a Westerosi knight. Soon I was famous. Ten thousand men and women screamed my name when I stepped into the pit. I made so much money for my master, he set me free when he died. I joined the Second Sons. And then I met you."

Daenerys sighed, knowing fate has its reasons. She was just tired of fighting. As much as the Dothraki used combat in their way of life, she knew when they were training, roughhousing, and intent on killing. But that day at the goat village in Lhazar, sacking the Lhazareen she could not handle. Watching innocent people being killed for resisting to become slaves. She blames herself for that since she whispered the Iron Throne in Drogo's ear. If she were a patient, her immediate family would still be alive.

"You're the princess," Daario continued. "Everyone's too afraid of you to speak the truth. Everyone but me. You and your sister have made thousands of enemies all across the world. As soon as they see weakness, they'll attack. Show your strength here, now."

"That's why Alysanne has the Unsullied patrolling the streets." She reminded.

Daario scoffed, "Anyone with a chest full of gold can buy an army of Unsullied. You're not the Mother of Unsullied. You're the Mother of Dragons."

She looked down having a flashback, "I don't want another child's bones dropped at my feet. No one's seen Drogon in weeks. For all I know, he's flown halfway across the world. I can't control him anymore."

He arched a brow, "A dragon princess with no dragons is not a princess."

"You sound like everyone as if Alysanne is going to die," Daenerys mumbled.

"Your sister took a step by abolishing slavery. She has created many enemies, ones who be happy to kill her to end her reign." He murmured. "We all want you prepared if something does happen to her. Either you decide to take back the Iron Throne or stay here, we all want you to be ready."

The next morning, Daenerys went outside to the field behind the pyramid where the Unsullied usually train. There she found Alysanne with Viserion and Rhaegal in her attempt to train the dragons. She was speaking in Valyrian, though careful of not saying the Dragon Rider spells. As there were targets and mock stands, as the dragoness tried to get the dragons to do tactical tricks. Every time the dragons got a trick right, they receive a chunk of meat.

Daenerys stood there, as she watches Alysanne trying to get the dragons to take turn by breathing fire without using the verbal command. Viserion breathed fire, then Rhaegal, before they were switching to keep a constant flow of flames. The Mother of Dragon was surprised, and realize how intelligent her sister was. She knew her sister was smart but didn't think she was that smart. Once the dragons were finished, they sat on the ground. Alysanne came over to Rhaegal and started petting his neck that caused the dragon to purr. Viserion jealous, rushed over forcing his head in between that knocked Alysanne down making her laugh.

"Jealous lizard," Alysanne laughed.

Daenerys came over, "How's the training?"

"It's going well," Alysanne answered as she shoved Viserion's head. "They got better on controlling their flames."

Daenerys nodded as she rubbed the top of Rhaegal's head, "Can I join you?"

"Join me in what?" the eldest asked, standing up.

"In dragon training?" Daenerys clarified.

Alysanne looked at her sister, staring at her attire. Daenerys was wearing a dress while Alysanne wore pants and a Dothraki vest.

"Well first, you need to change," she said.

The youngest sister smiled and hugged her. This surprised Alysanne who stumbled back falling to the ground. Viserion and Rhaegal stood there and watched tilting their heads. And they thought they tussle about.

* * *

**Now we are in Season 5!**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	33. Chapter 33: Blindness in Anger

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

* * *

**Chapter 33: Blindness in Anger**

Grey Worm was leading his patrol unit with Daario Naharis. They received information about a possible suspect in White Rat's murder. Daario hearing what has happened to White Rat decided to help with his men. Was only a few days later did one of Daario's men found out who was the assassin in the Unsullied Officers death. All of it leading to a working woman saw White Rat enter the brothel of Vala, seeing the Unsullied Officer go in and a few minutes later another man goes in wearing a Harpy Mask. When the man came out, she saw the face belonging to a familiar patron a lower class Meereenese. The woman received her reward, as Daario and Grey Worm went to check on the information.

"The Unsullied are too conspicuous," Daario said. "Anyone can see you coming from a mile off. Of course, you haven't found any Sons of the Harpy. You haven't, have you."

Grey Worm gave a grunt.

"My Second Sons, on the other hand, they drink, they whore, fight in the streets, they blend in. They overhear things in taverns, follow people from the taverns to nice, quiet alleys, break a few fingers, overhear a few more things." Daario said as they stop at one of the doors of an apartment on the ground level. "Before you know it…"

Daario nodded hinting this was a location.

Grey Worm secured his spear before kicking the door down. The Unsullied barged in weapons with spears ready, checking all possible hidden points in the one-room apartment. The place was empty. Only minimal furniture's Daario looked around, seeing the texture of the walls, till noticing one wall paint seem off.

"No one here," Grey Worm said. "We go."

"In a hurry?" Daario asked. "You're afraid."

"Unsullied fear nothing," Grey Worm reminded.

"Right," Daario gave a humorous sighed, then walked over to the wall behind the commander. "That's your problem. You understood fear once long ago, but you've forgotten what it means. Someone who's forgotten fear has forgotten how to hide."

Grey Worm doubt it.

Daario shrugged as he grabbed his stiletto and stabbed the wall. A man scream echoed from the wall. The pain caused the suspect to fall out of his hiding place over a standing shelf. He held his thigh where a puncture wound was. The Captain of the Second Sons came over to Grey Worm lofty.

"Fear is useful that way," Daario murmured, patting the Unsullied shoulder and walked off.

Grey Worm tried not to scowl, as he nods his head to his comrade to grab the suspect. Meanwhile, he lowers his spear and examines the hidden room that was narrow. Kneeling down, he found a sack. Inside the bag, he discovered bronze daggers and a Son of a Harpy mask.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

A Meereen Council meeting was assembled. As I had my usual Small council members and the two representatives of Meereen, Mossador for the Freemen, and Hizdahr zo Loraq for the Masters. The leader of the Great House was appointed in the position from the eight high rankings Great Master family. Out of the eight, I would say they made a wise decision. Since Hizdahr proved himself as my envoy in Astapor and Yunkai. However, Mossador is still not pleased about the Master in the Council, believing Hizdahr may have a part of it.

Now that Grey Worm and Daario have obtained the suspect of White Rat's death, we need to figure out a way to get information and the punishment. Everyone sat around the table except for Daenerys and Grey Worm.

"Sons of the Harpy, they want to put a collar back on my neck. On all our necks." Mossador said, looking at me. "Please, Your Grace, you must kill him."

"It would send a message," Daenerys said.

Ser Barristan lifted his hand as a caution, "I think you should exercise restraint, your highness."

"Why?" Daenerys asked.

"For one thing, he may have valuable information," Ser Barristan answered.

"The Son of the Harpy has no more valuable information," Daario disagreed.

"How do you know that?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Because I questioned him," Daario answered.

I took a deep breath, "Sometimes answers don't come immediately. Time in a dark cell will rectify that."

Ser Barristan and Hizdahr nodded in agreement.

"And the information you did get, he is a young and poor," Hizdahr said.

"He is born free," Mossador countered.

"Why should he want to bring back slavery?" Hizdahr asked Mossador. "What did it do for him?"

"Perhaps the only thing that gave him pride was knowing that there was someone lower than he was." Daenerys assumed.

"They pay him," Mossador said, tapping his fingers on the table. "Great families afraid to do a thing. They pay poor man to do it for them."

"And how do you know this?" Hizdahr asked.

"Everyone knows this," Mossad answered.

"I don't know it, and I'm the head of a great family," Hizdahr said.

"We do not know what this man did or didn't do," Ser Barristan interrupted the argument. "Give him a trial at least. A fair trial. Show all the citizens of Meereen that you're better than those who would depose you. Teach them a better way."

"I do not know the place from where Old Ser comes," Mossador said. "Things maybe are different there, I hope. But here in Meereen, before Dragon Sisters, they own us. So, we learn much about them, or we do not live long." He then glared at Hizdahr. "They teach me what they are. Mercy, fair trial – these mean nothing to them. All they understand is blood."

"The man will remain in the dungeon until we can get further information. Once we collected enough evidence, then we will hold a trial." I said standing up. "Thank you all for your counsel."

All stood up giving a bow, departing the Council Chamber. All who remain was Ser Barristan. Once the others were gone, Ser Barristan spoke, "Your Grace, a word, please, I beg you."

"About what?" I asked.

"About your father," Ser Barristan answered. "About the Mad King."

"I know what he did, Ser Barristan," I said taking a deep breath.

"Your Grace, I served in his Kingsguard. I was at his side from the first. Your enemies did not lie."

Having a feeling Ser Barristan wanted to get this off his chest. I let him.

"When the people rose in revolt against him, your father set their towns and castles aflame. He murdered sons in front of their fathers. He burned men alive with wildfire and laughed as they screamed. And his efforts to stamp out dissent led to a rebellion that killed every Targaryen except three." He said.

"I'm not my father," I said.

"No, Your Grace. Thank the gods," he said. "But the Mad King gave his enemies the justice he thought they deserved. And each time it made him feel powerful and right. Until the very end."

"I will not have the Son of the Harpy executed without a fair trial," I assure him.

"Your Grace," he sighed in relief.

"Can I ask…when he started to go Mad?" I asked.

Ser Barristan took a deep breath, "He started off as a fair, very ambitious king. I think when he appointed Tywin Lannister as Hand of the King, he grew jealous, I would say 265 did the signs of madness started to show, mistaken from jealousy and obsession. When Rhaella kept losing the pregnancy, it added to sorrow. It wasn't until the defiance of Duskendale did he snap. I was the only one who rescued him. I ask myself did I make the right decision or allow Rhaegar the opportunity to become king. When he ordered that House Hollard be burned alive was the day, he officially became mad. All but one of House Hollard perished. I pleaded your father to spare the boy."

I took a deep breath.

"What was he like on the day I was born?" I asked.

"Your mother Rhaella labored for two days to give birth to you. At the same time, ten men were brought in on Crimes of supposed treason. The worse being a woman who was accused of using magic. She cursed him saying all his sons shall die, before being set ablaze. When their screams died…was when your cries could be heard. He held you in his arms before your mother could. For a moment…everyone thought you could make a change. The love for his daughter."

"Then came the Fall of the Dragons," I whispered.

Ser Barristan nodded.

Now it makes sense on the spell Great Grandfather Aegon did to the dragon eggs affected me. As Visenya predicted only tragedy can give a Targaryen the ability to be immune by fire. Rhaegar with the burning of Summerhall, Daenerys during the Great Storm, and I…the execution of ten people burned alive.

"I barely remember him," I confessed.

"It's probably the best you didn't," he said.

I could only nod.

Then a thought came up thinking about Mossador behavior since we were discussing about impulsive behavior. Something told me that Mossador is not going to follow my orders. Lately, his behavior toward Hizdahr is not acceptable. I will not tolerate hostilities in my Council. Right now, this Son of a Harpy is our only source in getting the insurgence. As much as I hate this idea.

"Get Grey Worm, we have to move the prisoner to a secure location," I said.

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.

Once we got Grey Worm, we went to the dungeons to meet the Son of the Harpy. The Unsullied open the door as I entered the room looking at the man who could have killed one of my Officers. The man stood up looking down at me with distaste. Especially when his face was bruised from Daario's interrogation methods.

"_You don't belong here_," the Harpy said. "_And no matter how many traitors call you 'Mhysa,' you will never be their mother."_

"_Be thankful that I am one about mercy_," I said. "_Until a trial weigh on you. Strip_."

I stepped out of the room as the prisoner was forced to stripped and into the clothes that were provided. Grey Worm wore the Meereenese garments, while the man wore a freeman attire. The Unsullied took the prisoner to a secure chamber while the trap was set. I pray to the Seven that Mossador is wise and allow me to do my duty as Queen to punish the accuse.

.**o0o**.

Unfortunately, what I suspected came true. Mossador along with members of the Freemen council tried to kill the Son of the Harpy. Grey Worm and the Unsullied arrest the men and question them. All the council members say it was Mossador decision. Saying I was the one who told them to do it. Taking control of my emotions, I summoned the Small Council except for Hizdahr to not make the situation worse.

Mossador was brought in shackles, as he kneels on the lowest platform. Grey Worm and Ser Barristan stood behind me, Missandei, Daario, and Daenerys stood on the middle platform while I sat on the ebony bench.

"_Why?"_ I demanded.

"_For you, Mhysa,"_ Mossador answered, as he fell to his knee_. "You wanted the Harpy dead, but your hands were tied. I set you free, as you did all of us."_

"_He was our prisoner, awaiting trial. You had no right,"_ I said.

"_He would rather rip your city apart than see slaves lifted from the dirt,"_ Mossador argued.

"_There are no more slaves. There are no more masters."_ I reminded.

"_Then who lives in the pyramid? Who wears gold masks and murder your children?"_ he challenged. _"When Grey Worm came to us, I was the first to take up the knife for you. I remember the look on my brother's face as I struck down his master, who had traded his infant son for a dog. My brother died in the fighting. If we allow the Sons of the Harpy to return us to chains, he never lived."_

"_The Harpy's life is not yours to take,"_ I scolded. _"Once, the masters were the law- "_

"_And now you are the law!"_ Mossador interrupted.

"_The law is the law_," I scolded. "_You disappoint me, Mossador. You say you believe in me, and yet, you went behind my back when my decision was made. Your people elected you as their voice in my council. You failed them. You do not speak for them; you speak for yourself. And used your power in attempt to kill a man on the accusations you conspire out of hate. You are stripped from your position. Take him."_

Two Unsullied guards came over escorting Mossador to the dungeon. Once he was gone, I took a deep breath pinching the brim of my nose to alleviate a migraine that was forming.

"What are you going to do to him?" Daenerys asked.

"He betrayed me," I answered. "If he went behind my back and try to kill a man under my name. If I didn't have my suspensions, there would be a dead Harpy. The worse is that if I let Mossador go, it won't stop him from killing others. Until a new Freemen council is assembled, and a new representative…Mossador will be my prisoner until further notice."

"And the Harpy?" Daenerys continued.

"Has he cracked from being in his cell?" I asked.

"No," Ser Barristan answered.

"Tell the Harpy what has happened, let's see how he feels otherwise he better get comfortable until his trial," I said.

Ser Barristan nodded, with a small smile.

A fair trial. I made that promise, and I will keep my word.

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

The exiled knight sat in the corner of a brothel in Volantis. The past five months have not been too kind to him since he was banished from Meereen. His heart heavy, broken more than ever from Lyneese. Made him realize he was never in love with Lyneese, only captivated by her beauty. With Alysanne, it was true love, as she was everything he ever wanted. Not because of her beauty, but spirit and personality. For many months he wandered around the Free Cities, mainly drinking his way till finding himself in Volantis. When he entered the city, he crossed through the bridge until spotting a gathering.

It was an R'hllor priestess, a Yitish woman who was once a slave by the teardrop tattooed on her left cheek. A woman who was once a slave whore now held praise, especially being Yitish, from the land of Yi Ti. Jorah has never been to Yi Ti, but he knows the people are different from their bright eye, pale skin, and dark hair, who export trade in spices, especially in saffron. The woman had a gathering, as she spoke in Valyrian.

_"Āeksios aōhos oñoso īlōn jehikās kesrio syt bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys! Hae jeme istin. Sindity se liorty, qilonty se ozbārty,"_ The Priestess praised.

Jorah learning some Valyrian managed to translate what the woman was saying. "_Lord cast your light upon us for the night is dark and full of terrors! I was once as you are now. Bought and sold, scourged and branded."_

He continued to listen, as the woman continues with the worshipers recited what the red priestess praised. "_The Lord of Light hears your voices. He hears the kings as he hears the slaves; he hears the Stone Men in their misery. He has sent you two saviors! From the fire, they were reborn remake the world. The Dragon Sisters."_

Jorah doubted Alysanne would partake in the R'hllor religion. Knowing the Dragoness was devoted to the Faith of the Seven, as were many Targaryen Women for many generations. Let alone, his lover does not tolerate bloodshed without probable cause. Over the years the radical R'hllor would burn people alive to those who were not of their faith. Jorah keeping to his cynic belief has spared him on occasion. The only R'hllor priest he trusted not to burn him alive was Thoros of Myr. Although, he didn't mind the drunken priest's praises.

However, just as he kept moving the Yitish red priestess came over to him. She said something in High Valyrian. Her dark eyes stabbing into his soul. He carefully moved around her until coming into a brothel. Tormented by that experience wondering what the woman was saying. When asking one of the prostitutes who knew high Valyrian the woman said, "The Seed of Ice for the womb of Fire. A dynasty of no other."

He took that as nonsense as he orders any cheap alcohol to drown his sorrows. Listening for news in Meereen. All he has heard was that the Ghiscari province is establishing a new order. Cleon the Butcher was dead by Daario Naharis, and Yunkai has stopped their revolt. Other news of the Dragon Sisters was more of questions and wonders. It made things worse when the brothel started having to Lysene women wandering around for the patrons. Both being Valyrian descent or appeared to be with their silver-white hair, pale-blue eyes, and pale skin. Insult to injury as the two women wore similar attire of the blue and red dresses Daenerys and Alysanne wore through slavers bay, except the cleavage more elaborate, and the back of the dresses cut out revealing their buttocks.

The patrons would call out, "The Mother of Dragons." And "Dragon Queen." One time the woman in red came over to him, sitting on his lap trying to course him into her chambers. A moment of weakness, in his drunken state in thoughts of seeing Alysanne. But as the booze wears off, he only saw pale blue eyes, not indigo. Temptation before him, yet Jorah just couldn't. His heart and body belong to another.

So here he was, drinking away to an early grave while listening to conversations that could be of use. Only if the two Lysene women weren't a distraction in their facade of being the Dragon Sisters. It was hard enough not to shove men away from them when they continue the act of being "Magic." They have no idea what magic was. The past few years he has seen magic, and all it has left is pain and suffering. It wasn't long when one conversation caught his attention, since the man's voice was Westerosi, more specifically one from the South either Reach, Westerland, or Crownland.

"Do I look like a man without money?" the man said. "Never trust looks. Until quite recently, I was one of the richest men in the world."

The prostitute laughed.

Jorah looked at the walls small decoration that was reflective enough to that of a mirror. There he saw a dwarf, darken gold hair, a beard with a scar across his face, and green eyes. He watched the dwarf take a seat next to the dark hair prostitute, trying to woo her.

"Who needs wealth when you can make a woman laugh? I always pay my debts. I'm well known for it."

_Lannister, Tyrion Lannister,_ Jorah thought.

Laughter where the Lysene women could be heard.

"You like her," the prostitute said. "They all like them. They all want to fuck a queen and princess."

"That's because they've never met a queen." Tyrion murmured.

"You're just saying that," the girl said.

"You know how to spot a liar. If I could pick any girl here, I would pick you."

"Why?"

"Because you have a skeptical mind."

"All right, then. I'm warning you; we're going to have to wash you first. Come on." As the prostitute stood up taking his hand.

"I'm – I'm sorry, I can't."

"Of course, you can. You're shy."

"I'm not."

"Have another drink."

"Gladly, but this I can't do. Believe me, no one is more shocked than I am. I hope it passes. What will I do in my spare time? Go for a piss. That's a start."

Jorah heard Tyrion left and waited. A plan conspiring in the exile knight head. Tyrion Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister, was here in Volantis. Out of all the places the Imp could be, he somehow wandered into the same brothel Jorah was wallowing in. Was this a sign from the gods or a mere coincidence? Either way, Jorah knew he had an opportunity to redeem himself back to the Dragon Sisters. A chance to earn Alysanne's forgiveness. The Dragoness openly admitted out of all the Great Houses who rebelled against House Targaryen, House Lannister is the one she despised the most. After Tywin Lannister sacked King's Landing and orders Ser Gregor Clegane to slaughter Elia Martell and her two children, while Ser Jaime Lannister broke his oath and killed King Aerys the Second. Tyrion can be the perfect gift to be pardon and hopefully reinstate him back in the Targaryen Campaign. The chances of getting Alysanne forgiveness might be slim, and their relationship severed…but he would do anything to fight by her side.

So, finishing his drink, he went to his room to grab his property before he searches for the Imp. It wasn't hard to find the dwarf, as the half-man urinating off the side of the bridge, at the same time drinking. Jorah secured his pack while hiding the rope and strip of cloth that has a knot in it.

"No need to worry. I was just—" Tyrion started looking over his shoulder staring at him. "Oh, I thought you were someone else." Tyrion looked ahead finishing up, as he corrected his pants. "Show's almost over. I'm sure there are girls inside who'd be happy to oblige."

Jorah examined the alley seeing there were no bystanders. Taking this a moment of opportunity, he came over fastening the rope around Tyrion. This startled the dwarf.

"You've made some kind of mistake," Tyrion said, trying to break free but was restrained. "Why don't you tell me what you think you're doing and then—"

Jorah silences him, by securing a gag in the Lannister's mouth. "I'm taking you to the queen."

The Exile Knight grabbed Tyrion around the waist and carried him over his shoulder, before going down to the docks. There Jorah knocked a fisherman unconscious stealing his boat and supplies. Although, he did leave some gold coins as compensation over the unconscious man. More than enough. Afterward, the two sailed in the dead of night.

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**What do you guys think?**

**Did Alysanne do the right thing?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	34. Chapter 34: The Sons of the Harpy

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: I'm on a role. I wrote two chapters and post in one day. So, if you are reading this now, make sure you read Blindness in Anger, the previous chapter before this one.**_

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**Chapter 34: The Sons of the Harpy**

_Jorah's POV_

The Exile Knight sat by the tiller of the sailboat guiding it on the current by the shores. His eyes straight forward ignoring the glare from his prisoner who leaned against the port. Tyrion was gagged while wrist tied together. Earlier when Tyrion fell unconscious Jorah adjusted the restraints just in case the dwarf falls overboard and can swim. Or should be able to swim.

Jorah needs Tyrion alive in order to be pardon by Alysanne. He hopes by giving the son of the man who betrayed her father can be enough. He knows his chances of being back together are near impossible, but he vowed to protect her. Maybe spending too much time with the Dothraki got to him. A blood rider who follows his Khal. Or in this case, Khaleesi. Wanting to be there when the Targaryen sisters take back the Iron Throne. Alysanne is what Westeros needs. A ruler who thinks about others over herself. The Ghiscari province is not safe, making more enemies than ever. Having a feeling the Masters of any city will try to kill them. Let alone, Alysanne can fall into pressure when a situation was severe. Not forgetting what happened in Qarth.

"Will you please untie me?" Tyrion muffled out a few times. "Will you please?"

Jorah ignored him.

Tyrion soon started to sing some annoying tune. The gag muffling his voice made it sound bothersome. For the sake of silence, Jorah secured the tiller, before climbing over and removed the gag out of the dwarf's mouth. He quickly returns to the tiller to make sure they were on course.

"Thank you," Tyrion muttered, looking over the coast, his hands, then at Jorah. "Who are you?"

"Your captor," Jorah answered.

"Do you have wine?" Tyrion asked.

"No," Jorah answered.

"Can't sleep without wine."

"Then stay awake."

Tyrion examined his surroundings. Trying to figure out where they were going, "You're going the wrong way. My sister is in Westeros. Westeros is west. We're heading east."

"I'm not taking you to your sister," Jorah said.

"You said you were taking me to the queen," Tyrion said confused.

"I am. Queen Alysanne Targaryen." Jorah clarified. "She's the queen I serve."

Tyrion started laughing, "What a waste of a good kidnapping. It so happens I was heading there myself."

"What business would you have with the queen?" Jorah asked.

"Gold and glory. Oh, and hate. If you'd ever met my sister, you'd understand" Tyrion answered, gesturing to his tied-up hands. "So, now that it's clear we are on the same side…"

Jorah gave him a look before focusing up ahead.

"A highborn knight from the North of Westeros down on his luck in Essos." Tyrion theorized, eyeing the knight frail sack where the armor and sword stuck out. "Dragon epaulets, bear sigil breastplate. You're Jorah Mormont. I have to ask. How exactly where you serving your queen in a whorehouse half a world away? Is it possible that you were running? Why would you be running? And why would she have sent you away?"

Jorah did not answer.

"Oh, wait. You were spying on her, weren't you?" Tyrion murmured. "It's all coming back to me. I was drunk through most of the small council meetings, but it's all coming back. You passed notes to Varys's little birds. She found out, didn't she? Found out and exiled you. Now you hope to win back her favor with a gift. Risky scheme. One might even say desperate. You think Alysanne and Daenerys will execute me and pardon you? I'd say the reverse is just as likely."

The Exiled Knight secured the tiller, before coming over. Tyrion lifted his tied hands expecting to be cut free. However, instead of a knife to cut the rope, the half-man was met with a fist across the face. The impact knocked Tyrion down and unconscious. Jorah sighed, going back to the tiller.

_This is going to be a long journey,_ Jorah thought.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I stood at one of the balconies with Daenerys as we viewed the city. It was a peaceful day. The weather was beautiful, not too hot as there was a slight breeze. A lot has happened, as the Harpy was still in the dungeons not confessing to his crime or providing evidence. I recommended a week before we go to trial. As for Mossador, I'm debating on his punishment. I simply can't let him go back to society when his distaste for the Masters are known. He was willing to kill someone who was held captive. Exile is one option, but then I fear for the next city over or the Meereenese seeking revenge. If only Slaver's Bay had a Night's Watch. When the Freemen assembled their new council, will I hold a trial for both men?

I along with Hizdahr and the Freemen representative will sit on the step and listen to the accused. Evidence will be presented, and the accused will have the opportunity to defend themselves. Afterward, the judges and I will deliberate if we find the accused guilty or innocent. If found innocent they are free to go and compensated for missing work. If found guilty…they will be executed. Unless two out of the three judges or all three decide a different punishment. If the Harpy is found guilty, I have no choice but to execute him. He killed one of my officers. As for Mossador…for attempted murder when you prevented it? Also knowing the young man is filled with hate. Not just to the Masters, but anyone who is born free. Mossador was given his freedom, but he forged his chains.

Changing the subject, the dragons were getting bigger. They were getting bigger. Not riding size, but they can still cause damage. A few weeks ago, Viserion tried to get into my room and couldn't. I think it broke his heart, that I try getting out more often. Especially during training. Visenya lessons have been helpful. Using the correct dragon rider spells and tricks. They were tamer than they were months before. Missandei could walk up to them and not receive a growl.

"Everyone looks happy enough from up here," Daenerys murmured.

Ser Barristan who joined us laughed.

"What?" Daenerys asked, looking at him.

"I was thinking about all the times your brother made me go with him down from the Red Keep into the streets of King's Landing." Ser Barristan confessed.

"Why?" Daenerys asked, now curious.

"He liked to walk among the people." He answered. "He liked to sing to them."

"He sang to them?" She asked, impressed.

"Yes," he chuckled.

Daenerys and I chuckled as we walked back inside to the council room. We sat down, though Ser Barristan remained standing.

"Rhaegar would pick a spot on the Hook or the Street of Seeds and then he'd sing. Just like all the other minstrels." He continued.

"And what did you do?" I asked.

"I made sure no one killed him. And I collected the money," he answered.

I raised a brow.

"What? He liked to see how much he could make." He said with a shrug.

"He was good?" Daenerys asked.

"He was very good." I answered. "Give him his silver harp and women will week and children would dance."

"Viserys never told you?" Barristan asked.

"He told us Rhaegar was good at killing people," Daenerys said.

Ser Barristan shook his head, "Rhaegar never liked killing. He loved singing."

"And what did you do with the money?" Daenerys asked.

"Well, one time he gave it to the next minstrel down the street. One time, he gave it to an orphanage in Flea Bottom. One time, we got horribly drunk."

We all laughed at that. I tried to remember Rhaegar and imagine him and Ser Barristan drinking away with rosy cheeks, cheering over nonsense. Imagining Elia shaking her head amused by their antics when they return to the keep.

"Do you remember any of his songs?" Daenerys asked us.

"He wrote a lot of songs," I answered. "But I remember one that Rhaenys and I would dance too. Give me a moment…_For Dancing and the Dreaming_…it was a duet. Elia would sing the song with him."

I tried to remember the lyrics and started to sing,

Ser Barristan suddenly started to murmuring the song.

_"I'll swim and sail on savage seas_

_With never a fear of drowning_

_And gladly ride the waves of life_

_If you would marry me_

_No scorching sun nor freezing cold_

_Will stop me on my journey,_

_If you will promise me your heart. _

_And love…"_

The memory of the lyrics came up as I stood,

"_And love me for eternity_

_My dearest one, my darling dear_

_Your mighty words astound me_

_But I've no need for mighty deeds_

_When I feel your arms around me."_

Suddenly Ser Barristan took my hand leading a dance singing the next verse.

"_But I would bring you rings of gold_

_I'd even sing you poetry _

_And I would keep you from all harm_

_If you would stay beside me"_

I sang the next one,

"_I have no use for rings of gold_

_I care not for your poetry_

_I only want your hand to hold_

_I only want you near me"_

Soon we were singing the last verse together.

"_To love and kiss to sweetly hold_

_For the dancing and the dreaming_

_Through all life's sorrows_

_And delights_

_I'll keep your laugh inside me_

_I'll swim and sail a savage seas_

_With never a fear of drowning_

_I'd gladly ride the waves so white_

_And you will marry me!"_

We almost stumbled over each other, from the dress, yet we were having fun. Bringing back happy memories from King's Landing. Daenerys sat there clapping her hands. It's been so long to feel this happy. Ser Barristan has been a good friend since joining us. A guardian and uncle figure. From his guidance and stories let me feel joy for the first time in a long time.

Suddenly Daario enters the room, "Your Grace…am I interrupting something."

"No, merely missed a good show," Daenerys said, still smiling.

"What is it, Daario?" I asked, correcting my skirt.

"Hizdahr is here, waiting in the audience chamber, along with the pit fighters," Daario answered.

"How many others are there?" I asked.

"Ah…twenty-five? Fifty?" Daario guessed.

I did promise Hizdahr I would consider reopening the fighting pits after reading the Yunkish proposition and listening to the pit fighters reasoning. Much as I despise killing humans as a means of entertainment. There were a tradition and custom to appease their gods. The question should be if I allow blood spilled on the sands of The Great Pit of Daznak or not. A difficult decision, especially one that could reduce the Sons of the Harpies retaliation.

I turned to Ser Barristan, "Will you be joining us, Ser Barristan?"

"I think I can protect you ladies from Hizdahr zo Loraq," Daario said.

"I think I can protect me from Hizdahr zo Loraq," I silence him.

"Go, Ser Barristan." Daenerys murmured. "Sing another song for me."

Ser Barristan smiled giving a bow, "Your Highness. Your Grace."

He left the chamber to enjoy his day off. He deserves a chance to enjoy himself instead of continually being by my side. Meanwhile, Daenerys, Daario, and I went to the Audience Hall to meet the pit fighters. Once in our position, with Missandei, Hizdahr came forward taking the middle platform giving a bow. Once the introductions were in order, the representative of the Meereenese spoke.

"All men must die, but not all can die in glory."

"Glory?" I asked.

"Why else do men fight?" Hizdahr asked. "Why did your ancestors cross the Narrow Sea and conquer the Seven Kingdoms? So, their names would live on."

"My ancestors crossed the Narrow Seas because Daenys the Dreamer had a vision of the Doom. They left out of survival. Not glory." I corrected him.

"Forgive me," Hizdahr apologized and continued. "Those who find victory in the fighting pits will never become kings, but their names will live on. It's the best chance they'll ever have."

"Is that what you used to tell men before you set them to butchering each other for sport?" Daenerys asked bitterly.

"Your Grace, princess, today is the traditional start of the fighting season," Hizdahr explained. "Traditions are the only thing that will hold this city, your city, together. Without them, former slaves and former masters have nothing in common. Nothing but centuries of mistrust and resentment. I can't promise this is the answer to all our problems, but it's a start."

I sighed, "I have read the concession, reading the Masters point of view. Now I want to hear the fighter's perspective."

"Of course," Hizdahr said, as he called for the pit fighters.

The Unsullied were on guard at the ready as men and women came in. All in different stages of physicality to fight and from different ethnicities. All in their battle armor or attire, yet they did not have their weapons. Each of them told how the fighting pits changed them. Made them feel strong and powerful. When I ask how they felt about killing an innocent, one said:

"There are no innocents in the fighting pit. You either have the strength, or you were punished to die."

I asked about the killing people with the animals, and the Head of the Daznak pit explained that those were Ghiscari's version of execution. I had a hard time accepting that these people are willing to kill each other for the sake of entertainment and blood for the gods. I tried to compare them to the Dothraki, but…these people were trained killers who want to put their skills in an arena and not out on the streets.

"Thank you all for sharing your perspectives, it has helped me think about the decision," I said.

Before the Head of the Daznak pit could speak, there was a sound of the bells. Everyone stopped, since the pitch and tone of the signals were not the sound of invasion, but instead telling people to get inside because there was a riot.

**.o0o.**

_Ser Barristan's POV_

Ser Barristan the Bold enjoyed his stroll through the streets of Meereen. He had a small smile on his face remembering what happened in the Council Chamber, entertaining the Targaryen Sisters with a song and dance. It brought memories of Rhaegar and Elia singing the song, while Alysanne and Rhaenys dance on the floor, spinning around till tripping and collapsed in a fit of giggles. The knight won't deny that those girls were kept hidden under the Mad Kings paranoia, never having the opportunity to be children until Rhaegar came in the room.

So many thoughts linger about the Crown Prince. Out of the four children who survived through infancy, three were born from grief. Rhaegar being so melancholy, a sense of doom. A shadow hung over him all his days. Always reading until the sudden change to learn how to use a sword and trained to be a knight. The drastic improvement of a gifted person under a short period of time. Always stating a long night will come again. What brought peace to the Crown Prince were the children. When rumors spread that King Aerys was going to arrange Viserys to marry Alysanne, made Rhaegar disappointed as if he could see the fate of the two before it could even happen.

There was one statement Ser Barristan recall Rhaegar said in preparation for the tridents. "When the battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but ... well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return."

That was the thing that got Ser Barristan. He thought Rhaegar was happy with Princess Elia Martell. A gentle, good, and gracious lady, even when she was frail, due to her delicate health. Even then, the Martell was kind and clever, with a sweet wit. Strong to give birth to two beautiful children and welcome Viserys and Alysanne into her life. So, during the Tourney of Harrenhall of the False Spring, when Prince Rhaegar defeated him in a joust. Giving the crown of Love and Beauty to Lady Lyanna Stark instead of his wife, Elia...destroyed everything. Barristan tried to remember why, then again, he recalls his friend investigating a knight who the King thought insulted him. A mystery knight, the Knight of the Laughing tree, who vanished during mid-tourney.

A year later, Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark from the North.

_Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, and thousands died for it,_ Barristan thought.

Now he can see Rhaegar once again in Alysanne. The Queen held so much resemblance from her brother. From the eyes, the hair, and the shape of the face. Most importantly, their personality, the thirst for knowledge, to make a difference, the need to train, and prepare. The ideas of justice over execution and so much more. If Rhaegar were still alive, he would have arranged Alysanne to marry a Martell or a Tyrell.

Ser Barristan sighed, knowing he needs to stop comparing Alysanne to Rhaegar. Although there were so many similarities, they were two different people. Then again, they both loved someone they couldn't have. Only Rhaegar died for Lyanna while Alysanne gave up her happiness with Ser Jorah for the sake of her House. An endless cycle for a Targaryen never genuinely getting what they want.

Suddenly bells caught Ser Barristan's attention. Immediately he saw the people rushing inside to avoid the fight. Drawing his blade, he maneuvers around the citizens to investigate. Entering the Second Sons base finding several sells words dead. A commotion of a battle caught his attention in one of the indoor alleys. Rushing over, he found a battle happening. Seeing seven of the Unsullied still alive using their spears or short swords and shields, while twenty sons of the Harpy were fighting them. Another thing he notices was that the Unsullied were struggling, not because of the tight quarters, but the Harpies were skilled.

_Mercenaries_, Ser Barristan thought.

He rushed over stabbing a harpy in the back. A few of the gold masks turned around staring at him confused. Ser Barristan took the opportunity and attack. He blocked the straight forward attacks, twisting and turning almost as if he was dancing while his sword made contact to blade and flesh. Cutting off limbs, slicing backs and torsos, and thrusting into the chest. One Harpy got behind Ser Barristan shoving him forward, the older knight stumbled, yet he grabbed one of his opponents, turning them around, so the Harpy who shoved him, ended up stabbing his friend. The Harpy looked up only to be met with a sword across his neck.

Ser Barristan panted seeing Grey Worm fall to the ground. The older knight rushed in, only to be stabbed in the left shoulder. Barristan cried out in pain, adjusting the grip of his handle and pulled the sword backward, stabbing the Harpy. Not one for theatrics, yanked the sword back and rushed to Grey Worm while the other Unsullied dealt with the rest.

Grey Worm was holding his side, bleeding badly. Barristan looked up finding all the Harpies were dead, along with three Unsullied dead. Maybe Four is Grey Worm doesn't get immediate treatment. Quickly he took his belt and tied it around the Unsullied commander's torso using it as a tourniquet along with a sash from a harpy's corpse to reduce bleeding. Then taking more scatter fabrics to cover the wound adding pressure.

The rest of the Unsullied rushed over to help as they plan on moving their commander to a healer. Ser Barristan got up, then winced feeling pain in his left shoulder. The adrenaline leaving his system that he realized he was injured. Ignoring the pain, the blood dripping down his back, he walked over to a Harpy pulling off his mask. He noticed something was off. The man did not look Ghiscari or from the central regions of Essos. No, he appeared to be more from the Western Side, based on the red hair and green eyes.

This confirms these men were mercenaries.

The question is, who hired the mercenaries?

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**So, what do you guys think? Sorry if the fighting seemed off. Battle scenes are hard, and I was on Ser Barristan's POV. You begged me for it, so I complied. Ser Barristan the Bold lives. I took a look at his information page, and even a man of his age was still capable of fighting. Also, I hate how the show starts off the Unsullied as elite soldiers, and suddenly by Season five, they are easily killed. Hence, I'm not going through that route. Also, adding more twist, that the Sons of the Harpy may not all Meereenese by how the Series presented itself.**

**Song used was _For the Dancing and the Dream by How to Train Your Dragon 2_. Imagine Ser Barristan and Alysanne dance the way Stoic and Valka dance. No, there is no romance between Alysanne and Ser Barristan. I see them more like a niece and uncle, or a father/daughter relationship.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	35. Chapter 35: Defiance

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 35: Defiance**

I stood in a room where eight of my Unsullied and five Second Sons laid on pyres in preparation for burial. In one of the districts where fifty Unsullied were on patrol, eight of them died in protecting the people of Meereen against the Sons of the Harpy. Two were killed by a surprise attack in an alley, outnumber while the rest died in combat. As for the five Second Sons, they were on leave, enjoying themselves in the company of women and wine. Like any man would do after a long day of patrolling.

Based on the reports, the Sons of the Harpy were divided into two groups. Ones who were armature, similar to the Harpy that is in the dungeon while the others were trained. When collecting their mask, the corpses showed a different ethnicity, men fairer than olive, amber, or copper skin. Mercenaries. Someone hired mercenaries to join the Sons of the Harpy's cause. A mercenary has no allegiance, only to the gold or an item worth in value. So, there is a third party that is causing chaos in my kingdom. The question is, who is the person or people who conspire to kill my men.

Each and every one of these men, I prayed for them. One Unsullied name Red Beetle showed me how to do the Lady of Spears prayer, respecting the Unsullied goddess. Daario Naharis told me each of his men's religion from the weeping woman, the Many-Faced God, and the Bakkalon. I also included the Warriors prayer and the rare one of the Stranger.

"Your Grace," a voice called out.

I turned around seeing Ser Barristan, his left arm in a sling. No doubt to alleviate the weight off his shoulder where he was wounded. In the riot, the only injury Ser Barristan received was a stab in the back of his left shoulder. A skilled knight indeed, especially for his age.

"You should be resting, Ser Barristan the Bold," I said. "You deserve it."

"I will rest once I know you are safe," he murmured as he came over, watching me washing the blood off an Unsullied. He glanced around seeing if Grey Worm was in the group.

"Grey Worm is in critical condition," I assure him quietly. "Your tourniquet saved his life. He is in his chamber with Missandei."

Ser Barristan nodded, sighing in relief, "This is not your fault."

"No, a part of it is my fault," I mumbled. "I bought these men for a day to kill the Good Masters."

"And you released them afterward. You bought their freedom and gave them a choice to fight for you or live among the people. It was their choice." He reminded resting a hand on my shoulder.

"A choice I presented," I sighed. "How can I protect them, when I do not know all my enemies?"

Ser Barristan could not answer.

Another person entered the chamber, it was Hizdahr.

"I'm so sorry, my Queen." Hizdahr apologized. "They were good men."

"They were boys who lost their childhood. Spared by the Unsullied rituals as babes only to be sold to become what their mothers fear at age five. Cut, beaten, and slaughter until they were nothing but a hollow obedient shell. And the Second Sons, men who lived hard lives trying to find a place in the world. They all crossed a province to serve me. They were loyal men. And they died in an alley, butchered by cowards who hide behind masks."

"We could pull back to the pyramid district, secure it, and use it as a base from which to operate," Daario suggested. "Then we clean the city out, neighborhood by neighborhood, street by street until the rats have nowhere left to hide."

"No, that will violate the people's privacy and risk of casualties," I said, turning to face the men. "I call an emergency meeting from the Small Council, and both Freemen and Masters council. Bring them to me. It's time we have a talk."

"I'm the representative of the Masters," Hizdahr said.

"That is why you will be going to collect the others if they do not show then it's clear who the enemy is," I replied, voice monotone. "You talk of peace between the two parties, so let's talk peace and negotiate what is acceptable and what is not in traditions. Aggo, Kovar, and Black Scarab will escort you."

Hizdahr zo Loraq nodded, giving a bow before following the Dothraki men out with Black Scarab. More Unsullied will join the Councils protection.

"You're doing the right thing," Ser Barristan said.

"I want less violence in this city," I said. "Wars have started for less."

Ser Barristan nodded in agreement.

Hours passed by as I waited for the two councils. However, only the Freemen showed up or at least those who were not part of Mossador treason. In the chambers were the elders, Ser Barristan, and Missandei. Daenerys was absent along with Daario Naharis, and the Master council. Time seemed to pass, as I grow suspicious in why the second party was late. The only person who should be absent from this summoning was Grey Worm. Suddenly Black Scarab came running in holding his face.

He rushed to my side and whispered about what has happened.

My eyes widen as I got up and ran down to the catacombs.

_Damn it, Daenerys_, I mentally screamed.

**.o0o.**

_The Catacombs_

Daenerys heard what has happened and wanted to intimidate the Masters of their councils before the meeting. So, with her Dothraki screamers and the Unsullied who were unaware of the exact orders, has escorted the eight men down to the catacombs where Viserion and Rhaegal rest for the night. Hizdahr was confused since he was ordered by the Queen to take the Council to the Audience Chamber, not the catacombs. However, he was silenced by Daario.

The Masters were terrified standing in a cold chamber where across from them was utter darkness while behind them men with weapons. Daenerys stood there in white, her face neutral. The only sound they can here was crackling or the torches fire and snarl breathing.

"_Walk forward,"_ Daenerys gestured.

The Unsullied lower the spears.

"_You cannot do this,"_ one of the Masters said.

However, the Unsullied forced them forward by shoving their spears slightly. Not wanting to be stabbed, they walked ahead into the darkness.

"_Another step,"_ Daenerys ordered.

The men whimpered doing so. Some gave their prayers believing they were going to die.

Daenerys came over, "_They will eat you if I tell them to. They may eat you even if I don't. Children. Some say I should give up on them. But a good mother never gives up on her children. She disciplines them if she must. But she does not give up on them_."

She made a hand gesture, to the dark abyss. On command, both dragons breathed fired into the air upon the ceiling. The Masters stumbled back petrified, seeing the dragons up close and personal. Feeling the heat from their fire, consuming the cold night air.

"_Who is innocent? Maybe all of you are, maybe none of you are."_ Daenerys murmured. "_Maybe, I should let the dragons decide."_

As she placed her hand on Hizdahr shoulder.

"_Valar Morghulis,"_ Hizdahr whispered.

Daenerys tiled her head and nodded to Daario. The Sellsword came over shoving another man to the dragons. The man stumbled falling to the ground before the green dragon. His movements were drastic and fast. Rhaegal taking this as a threat leaned his head back about to breathe fire.

"_Stop!"_

It happened so fast, as black fabric passed them. Alysanne had rushed down the steps passing the men before jumping in shoving the Master Nasr away. However, it was too late as Rhaegal flames consumed her while Master Nasr just barely got out. Daenerys eyes widen, for she was not expecting that. Everyone was shocked as well. Viserion shoved Rhaegal violently to stop him. All eyes looked at the ground expecting to see a burning body or one severely charred to dust with nothing but a skeleton.

Instead, they found Alysanne hunched on the ground coughing. She stood up, naked as what remains of her gown was turned to ashes. Her body covers in soot. All the Masters fell to their knees bewilder in what they have witnessed. The Targaryen Queen sacrificing herself to stop Rhaegal from killing one of the Masters. Now stands before them unharmed.

Viserion came over lower his head to his rider's level examining her condition. Alysanne rubbed his neck assuring him she was fine and glared at Daenerys. The Mother of Dragons knew she was in trouble. What was supposed to be an intimidation tactic got out of hand? The dragons were supposed the scare the Master Council; however, Daario put a little too much force in his shove that one of the men came to close startling Rhaegal who was still a wild beast. If Alysanne didn't come in just in time, things could have gone out of hand.

Alysanne walked over to the elder Master Nasr who was shoved in offering a hand. The timid man accepted the offer, as he got up. Alysanne apologized to him, then looked at the others, "_Unsullied, take the Masters the Heart of the Pyramid and show them to their room. "_

The Unsullied complied escorting the Masters to their quarters for the night. Those who remain was Daenerys, Daario, Ser Barristan, and the remaining guards who watched Alysanne. Ser Barristan and Daario were shocked. They witness the Dragoness being burned by dragon fire and not a single scratch on her. The eldest sister walked over to the youngest glaring down at her. Daenerys face was neutral, unsure what her sister was going to do.

_Smack_

Her left cheek hurt, realizing Alysanne slapped her. She touched her cheek and winced, feeling the sting and heat. Daenerys opened her mouth to speak but was silent.

"_Take Princess Daenerys to her chambers and Daario Naharis in his own guarded. Weapons stripped. If he tries to escape, you are permitted to flog him." _Alysanne ordered, her voice dead.

Daenerys could see in Alysanne eyes that held betrayal. Before she could speak, two of the Unsullied grabbed her by the arms and escorted her back to her chambers. This was her realization in what everyone has been saying about impulsive behavior. She thought she was helping…only to realize she was not. Looking over her shoulder, she watches Ser Barristan removing his leather tunic so Alysanne could be cover.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Once Daenerys and Daario left the catacomb, I stood there looking at my arms. In the dim lighting, I found no burn marks on my body. Out of impulse, I jumped into Rhaegal's fire to save one of the Masters, Master Nasr from being burned alive and eaten. Seeing that I am still alive baffled me, yet the shock kept the emotions suppressed. A blessing from a tragic event saved me from death. Preventing history of Princess Rhaenyra's tragic death of being burned and eaten alive by Aegon the Second dragon, Sunfyre.

Ser Barristan came over handing him his leather tunic to cover me. I accepted the tunic putting it on to be modest before others. As the leather went down to my midthigh. It pained me to see that my own sister went behind my back. I wanted a meeting to negotiate terms with both Freemen and Masters to resolve this feud and figure out a way to end the Sons of the Harpy. If Daenerys has her way, this would have led to a rebellion.

"Let's get you inside and treated," Ser Barristan advised.

I nodded, as we left the catacombs. Though I told the guards to give the dragons some goats. Afterward, I was taken to my chamber where a healer was called in. Other than the scrapes and bruises on my knees, not a single burn or injury. Except for the occasional cough from the smoke. Which water and time will handle? Nothing else to say, I dismissed them wanting to be alone right now.

I coughed again, standing up going to the water basin to wash off the soot. Tomorrow morning, I will take a bath, but right now I don't want to look at a person right now. Not wanting the be stared at in what magic has performed once again. After getting most of the soot and ashes off my skin, I drank another glass of water before collapsing on the bed emotionally exhausted.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in Dragonstone.

Visenya sat on the stone throne staring at me impressed.

"Seems Aegon the Unlikely did more in the spell than anticipated," Visenya said. "Fire and Dragon fire, you are immune to."

"All because I was born on the day my father burned ten people alive," I mumbled.

The Warrior Queen nodded, as she came over to examine my condition. "Come, let's get you something to drink."

She leads the way to her private chambers where a table had wine and food. We sat down as she examined the wine. Her eyes focus on me about what has happened. Daenerys went behind my back and took the Master Council to the catacombs where the dragons rest. She then had Daario push Master Nasr towards Rhaegal. Rhaegal is not bonded to any of us. He is following his siblings knowing he could trust Daenerys and I. Even with training, it is still a struggle to earn his trust.

"How bad is it?" I asked. "Was it out of impulse or Madness?"

"She was trying to help you, by scaring the Masters," Visenya answered.

"Well, her stunt has probably ruined any trust I have with the Masters," I said. "What is it with people going behind my back. First Jorah, then Mossador, now Daario and Daenerys. The only person who hasn't betrayed me is Ser Barristan."

"He is a loyal knight, one I wish I had for my Kingsguard back in the day," she said. "He will never betray you. Out of the Kings he has served, and the opportunity to not be a Kingsguard for Robert Baratheon, he sticks to his vows until the lions relieve him of his service. Only his death will be his betrayal."

I nodded appreciating I have one person who will never betray me. Ser Barristan has been there since I was born, three years of my early life, and after eighteen years, return to protect me once more.

"What should I do with Daenerys?" I asked. "I don't want to…she's my sister and the last remaining Targaryen that I know. And yet, she went behind my back. She takes fire and blood to seriously. As if eradicating an entire culture is the answer."

"Her time will come when she realizes her mistakes," she said, taking a sip of wine. "When it's time to kill the girl to become the woman."

I bow my head, "I've spoiled her."

"You did not spoil her; she took advantage of what was given to her. All her life she has been on the run, never understanding the world around her except for survival. Keep her on watch until the times comes."

I could only nod.

"One way to compensate for this action is to open the fighting pits," I sighed. "Allow free men to fight."

"That is a good start," she agreed. "They will ask for more. Be prepare what they will ask and think carefully. What is more important, the people or yourself."

"And what is that?" I asked.

"I cannot say," she answered. "You need to learn. If I told you everything what's the point growing up?"

"you're right," I sighed.

"Oh, course I'm right," Visenya said.

I chuckled slightly and took a sip of the wine.

**.o0o.**

_Missandei's POV _

The Translator sat next to the Commander of the Unsullied. Making sure there were no complications and be there when he wakes. She could hardly sleep. Seeing that things got out of control from Daenerys interfering with Alysanne plans for a summoning. What she has heard, Rhaegal breathed fire on one of the Masters, but Alysanne pushed the man saving him. From what she has heard, her Queen was sage. The Sons of the Harpy has caused enough damage.

A groan caught her attention. She looked up seeing Grey Worm sitting up only to groan in pain.

"No," she told him, gently pushing him down on the bed. "You're still too weak."

"_How long have I been here?"_ Grey worm asked.

"_Three days_," Missandei answered.

Grey Worm's eyes widen, "Ser Barristan?"

"_Alive, injured, but alive,"_ she said.

Grey Worm sighed, looking up to the ceiling, _"I failed my men. I failed my Queen."_

"_You failed no one,"_ she assured. _"You fought bravely. You'll fight again."_

Grey Worm did not look at her.

"Are you ashamed?" she asked.

No response.

"You were ambushed, outnumbered. There was no way you could have known."

"This is not why." He whispered, looking at her. "Wounded in war, there is no shame for this. I am ashamed because when the knife goes in, and I fall to the ground, I am afraid."

Missandei shook her head, "All men fear death."

"No, not death. I fear…I never see Missandei from the Island of Naath." He confessed.

This surprised Missandei as she looked down, feeling her eyes water. She cares for Grey Worm deeply. And to hear him make this confession pleased her. Moving to the edge of the bed, she leaned over and gave Grey Worm a kiss on the lip. One she had control over. When she pulled back, she saw his lips lift to a small smile. It was faint, but it was there.

A while later she went to her Queen's chamber seeing Alysanne going over the concessions paper. Alysanne telling her internal debate to open the fighting pits to compensate what Daenerys has done. Along with the issue that some Harpies were not of this origin, having a third party either helping the Masters in Meereen, or the other cities. Someone hiring mercenaries to come to Meereen and kill their men.

"Now you have given the Masters what they deserve," Missandei said.

"If I give everyone what they deserve, I'll have no one left to rule," Alysanne sighed. "Ser Barristan counseled mercy when I took this city right up to the morning of the riot. Daario Naharis and Daenerys think I should kill the former Masters and let the rest of the city fend for itself. What do you think?"

This surprised Missandei. She always found it strange that the Queen always asks for her opinion.

"Your Grace, I think that I am not fit to have an opinion of these matters," she said.

"You are as fit as anyone I know," Alysanne said. "You know why I'm here. And you know who will suffer the most if this all falls apart. So, what do you think?"

"I can only tell you what I have seen, Your Grace.," Missandei walked over taking a seat next to Alysanne on the couch. "I have seen you listen to your counselors. I had seen you lean on their experience when your own was lacking and weigh the choices they put before you. And I have seen you ignore your counselors…because there was a better choice. One that only you could see."

Alysanne took her hand, "Thank you."

Missandei knows her Queen will make a choice that she sees fits to appease both sides. She only wished that the decision could make her Queen happy instead of battling to make peace. In the end, the Naathi knew that rulers are never happy.

"And what will happen to Daenerys?" Missandei asked.

"She is bound to her chambers until I can fix this mess," Alysanne answered. "Now it is time to face the wolves."

The Queen stood up to get ready to meet the Great Master.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I enter the chamber where a long table was. One side was the Great Masters while on the were the Freemen Council. All men stood up giving a bow. I gesture them to sit down, sitting on the end with Missandei and Ser Barristan behind me.

"_Gentlemen, thank you for coming. First, I want to give my deepest apologies on the actions of my sister. It was not my intention to take you to the Catacombs to see the dragons. Originally, I wanted you here to discuss the recent attack in our city. Thirteen of my soldiers are dead in protecting the city. These men who go by the name as Sons of the Harpy have escalated. Based on what has transpired, it is clear someone is hiring mercenaries. If you know who it is, I ask you to tell me."_ I said.

"_Even if we did know, it would be a risk for ourselves,"_ One Master said.

"_You would risk the lives of all of us, for men behind a mask," _an elder of the freemen asked. "_You are no better than these killers."_

The Master glared at the elder.

"_Enough,"_ Hizdahr said. "_We all agree that these Harpies are destroying our city and putting lives at risk. The very men who brought us in a predicament."_

"_Then what should we do?"_ Master Nasr asked.

"_These past few weeks, Hizdahr and I have been talking about what traditions to keep and not to keep. About bringing the people of this city together. After reading the concessions of the Wise Masters and the clear statements by the pit fighters. I will reopen the fighting pits. To free men only."_ I announced.

The two councils were surprised by this.

"_Slavery will never return to Meereen, not while I live,"_ I promised.

"_Yes, my Queen_," the men said.

"_Is there anything else we should discuss in this moment of opportunity?" _I asked.

"_Yes, your Grace,"_ Master Phal answered. "_In order to forge a lasting bond with the Meereenese people, you should marry a leader of an ancient family."_

"_What?"_ I replied, trying not to display my bewilderment.

"_You marry a leader of an ancient family, and make one of the Freemen as a high-ranking official giving both men equal power."_ Master Phal said.

"_And my intended?"_ I asked. _"Do I have a choice in who I marry?"_

"_One of the candidates is in this room,"_ Master Skahaz announced. "_Hizdahr zo Loraq."_

Hizdahr was baffled by this as if he had no intention of becoming my intended. Then again Family zo Loraq is the most respected family between the Masters and Freemen. His father Miraz zo Loraq fought against child slavery, especially children used as a milepost. Still, the Council both former slaves and slavers were agreeing to these terms. I don't know what to do as I look at Ser Barristan who was overwhelmed as I.

If I choose to marry a Ghiscari…it would mean I am bound to Essos. At the same time, I could not abandon the people here. I looked at Hizdahr who felt the same pressure as I. We never had a choice in being what we want. Once more, the actions of my sister's decision. The Meereenese were already afraid of me because of the Unsullied. Thanks to the dragons, the Masters were terrified. The only way for them to gain security is by marrying the Queen.

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**Slight struggle with this chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	36. Chapter 36: The Doom of Valyria

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 36: The Doom of Valyria**

Another cough burst from my lips into a small fit. After four days since the dragon incident in the catacombs, the smoke has yet to leave my lungs. So far, some Meereenese tea has helped ease the discomfort and a lot of warm water. Otherwise, it will be a while before my breathing gets back to normal. If only it weren't a pain to sleep without waking up to a fit of coughs.

But simple coughing wasn't an issue. No, I had to reopen the fighting pits. In a few weeks, murder will be a source of entertainment for the people. Hizdahr and I made it clear only free men enter the arena, no slaves or prisoners. The Pit Master assured me there would be no slaves or prisoners in the Great Games. The Great Games will begin before the wedding. After all the bloodshed the Great Games will end with a royal wedding.

Wedding, having no choice but to marry a leader of an ancient family to secure peace between the Meereenese and Targaryens. Out of all the candidates of the Master family, Hizdahr zo Loraq holds some potential. I mean in all our encounters we keep things professional and correct one another if there was a misunderstanding. We both want peace for our people. If the Sons of the Harpy are acting out because of my limitation, then a Meereenese king could settle the score. A political marriage forged to keep the peace.

I will not be pleased in the ritual that will have to be performed for a woman. As Hizdahr's female relatives will examine my womb and other parts to ensure my fertility. Three Graces witnessing the ancient ritual, and recite prayers while being naked. Once the ceremony is complete, we eat a cake that no man could eat. After the wedding, there is another ritual that needs to be performed, as the bride washes the groom's feet, signifying that she was her husband handmaiden. However, to do the status of power, Hizdahr will be washing my feet. Although, I made a notice that we will be washing each other's feet. As we do these fifty eunuchs sing to us. The actual wedding will be at the Temple of the Graces, taking about four hours, and when we emerge from the Temple, we will bound together by wrist and ankle with chains of gold.

Only that I do not love Hizdahr zo Loraq. Do I respect him? Yes. Do I find him attractive? He has a unique handsomeness. However, I made a vow that the next man that I marry will be out of love. To be selfish and not let traditions control me. Also…I was still recovering from a broken heart. Even after five months, I still had feelings for Jorah Mormont. Even though he betrayed me…I just couldn't let go. He was my companion, friend, mentor, advisor, general, and lover. Jorah taught me how to fight. He helped me understand things when I'm confused. He understood war, what a soldier thinks, and knowledge on a battlefield as a soldier in both Westeros and the Golden Company.

But most importantly, Jorah saw me as…well, me. When I told him to stop calling me Your Grace, and by my name, he kept to it. Other than Daenerys, Jorah called me Alysanne. When I ask him of something, he would reply, "As you wish."

And yet he betrayed me from the first. He spied on my family since our arrival in Pentos. Sent letters to the spymaster Varys. Reporting on our whereabouts, Daenerys marriage to Khal Drogo, and…the pregnancy. If Jorah hadn't reported about the pregnancy, then the Wine Merchant wouldn't have attempted to assassinate us. Drogo wouldn't have seen it as an omen for war. The Khalasar wouldn't have gone south to Lhazar to capture slaves, and encountering Mirri Maz Duur.

Most importantly…Rhaego could've been alive. Not killed and deformed by that witch. I held my stillborn nephew for two days while Daenerys fought her fever. The Stallion who mounts the world and the heir to the Iron Throne. Rhaego Targaryen who can keep the name and bloodline going. And Jorah made that decision in exchange for a pardon and possibly an annulment.

I wonder where he is right now? Is he back in Westeros, returned to his status of Lord of Bear Island? Or is he wandering around Essos serving his sword as a sellsword? It does not matter. He betrayed me. If I ever see him again in Meereen…

The doors burst open as Daenerys barged into the study. I glanced up from my papers glaring at her. It has been four days since I last saw Daenerys and talked to her. Do I hate my sister? No. But I am beyond angry and mad at her for what she did? As punishment, she is locked in her chambers with Unsullied guards by the door. She is allowed to be out with Missandei in the terrace garden.

"What's this, that I hear about a arrange marriage?" Daenerys demanded.

I opened my mouth to speak, except she continued.

"You promised me I would never be in a arrange marriage." She yelled. "I can marry whoever I wanted unless you disapprove."

"Are you finish?" I asked, setting the paper down.

Daenerys stood there glaring at me.

"I'll take your silence as a yes," I concluded. "You are not getting married."

"Then why are people talking about Hizdahr zo Loraq marrying a Targaryen?" she asked.

"Because I'm marrying Hizdahr zo Loraq," I answered. "In order to fix the damages you've made."

Her violet eyes widen, "No. Alys, no. You deserve better."

"It's too late," I sighed. "The Masters want a secure alliance and have a leader of an ancient family as King while one of the Freemen as Protector of the Realm. Including reopening the fighting pits."

"But…"

"No buts, if you had listened to me and not betray me, we wouldn't be in this mess," I scolded.

"I didn't betray you," she said.

"I ordered a summoning with both councils to discuss the matters. You disobeyed my order and took them to the catacombs where the dragons rest. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I thought I could intimidate them, to make them afraid and comply."

"They were already afraid of us with twelve thousand men and three dragons. They already hate us for abolishing slavery. What you did was not an olive branch. It was a threat. One that the Sons of the Harpy could use against us. If Master Nasr had died would be the end of everything I built. Why do you do this to me? Do the complete opposite than what I asked?"

"They killed thirteen of our men."

"And we killed more of them. Right now, we have a third party that is paying mercenaries to attack Meereen from the inside. I need to find the head of the Sons of the Harpy. Find the men who are sponsoring them. Because I have a feeling, it's not just a Great Master against us."

"What do you mean?"

"Dany, we've chopped off the head of the snake for slavery. Slaver's Bay is the primary source. However, there are the Free Cities who get their slaves from here. Along with the Dothraki."

Daenerys sighed, knowing I had a point.

"Right now, you are a risk. Until I can trust you again, you don't have command over the Unsullied. Guards will protect you, and keep to a schedule."

"You can't do that."

"I can and I will. You betray me, and I have enough people betraying me in a single year."

Daenerys eyes widen.

"If you weren't my sister, I would have put you on trial. Do you know what the punishment is for treason in Westeros if found guilty? Hanged, drawn, and quartered or burnt at the stake. On your royal status, it would have been a beheading by sword. For the love I have for you, this is your last chance. It's time to grow up and learn about hierarchy. I want us to rule Westeros together, yet this impulsive behavior…is becoming like Father. And we vowed not to be trap in his legacy."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She looked down ashamed, "And Daario?"

"I'm tempted to emasculate him since I have my suspicions, he had a major part in it," I muttered.

Daenerys gulped.

"But since you value his cock, he is on suspension. Follow by stable duty, mucking up the stalls."

She sighed in relief.

"Now go, I have work to do."

"Alys-"

"Leave! I'm beyond angry with you and holding my tongue."

Realizing I could say things that can ruin our relationship, she sighed and left. Once the door was shut, I bow my head taking several deep breaths to control my emotions. Sadly, the walls tumbled, and I sobbed. I try so hard to be perfect as any Targaryen in order to restore my family name. Not to show weakness and vulnerability. And yet, I have to sacrifice my happiness, my freedom for the good of others. I could have arranged a marriage between Daenerys and Hizdahr; nevertheless, I didn't. I could have gone with the plan of killing all the leaders of each ancient family to stop the Harpies.

There so many violent ways in which I could defeat my enemies…again, that is not me. I am not one for death. My family was slaughter in Robert's Rebellion. Rhaegar crushed to death, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia devil and butchered, and Father stabbed in the back. The war added stress to my mother that her pregnancy was high risk and died during childbirth. Viserys was plagued with Madness because the world rejected him. Now Daenerys and I remained, and our views of the ruling are entirely opposite. There is one more Targaryen, Aemon who is a Maester for the Night's Watch, yet he bound by duty. Although, I pray I have an opportunity to meet him. Otherwise, two houses have dragons' blood.

The anxiety was building up, tightening my chest that it hurt. I feel utterly alone. Even with Missandei, Grey Worm, and Ser Barristan by my side …it's not enough. And the one person who helped me through this was exiled. Jorah was my support, and he betrayed me.

Sometimes I wonder if I didn't choose the conqueror ring. What if Daenerys and I sold the dragon eggs and lived our lives as rich women? All the stress and anxiety would be gone. However, millions of people would still be enslaved.

I suddenly fell into a fit of coughs.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

The exiled knight kept focus as he led the sailboat to a restricted area. Many sailors advise to never go near these lands unless they have shadowbinding charms sealed on their backs. However, it was the safest route against pirates. The only land pirates feared. The land of the forgotten, Valyria. All his years he never went to Valyria. Nothing there but ruins.

A groan caught Jorah's attention, indicating Tyrion was waking up. On occasions, Jorah would knock Tyrion out for some silence. Hearing nothing but the seas and seagulls, needing a quiet surrounding to listen for other ships. The last thing they need is being captured by pirates and sold into slavery.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Nothing broken, I don't think.," Tyrion muttered. "Where are we now? Not the Rhoyne."

Jorah did not answer.

"Long, sullen silences and an occasional punch in the face. The Mormont way."

Jorah continued to ignore him.

"Let's start over. I apologize for before. My mouth sometimes runs away from me. This doesn't have to be an unpleasant trip. We're going to be spending a lot of time together on the way to Meereen."

"We are," Jorah finally said.

"What would make out time together truly enjoyable would be some wine," Tyrion suggested.

"No wine," Jorah said.

Jorah didn't have enough time to get wine, nor does he need his senses dull. When he travels, he doesn't drink? Other than his wallowing, he was trying to get himself back together before seeing Alysanne. She had high expectations when it came to her Small Council — needing her Generals and Commanders to have a clear mind.

Tyrion scowled, clenching his fist, "I am a person who drinks. People who drink need to keep drinking. Otherwise, they're not…"

The knight saw what he was looking and stood up. Upon the horizon was a derelict island hidden among the fog and mist. Tyrion looked over his shoulder seeing the ruins.

"You're taking us through Valyria," Tyrion said.

"I am," Jorah confirmed.

"Have you sailed this route before?" Tyrion asked,

"No," Jorah answered.

"You're going to bring Alysanne a souvenir from her ancestral homeland in case I'm not enough?" Tyrion asked.

"I think you'll be plenty," Jorah assured.

"You know what they say. The Doom still rules Valyria. What about the demons and the flames? Aren't you afraid of the Doom?"

"No," Jorah said sitting back down. "But pirates are."

"Oh," Tyrion sighed.

Jorah also believed that the Doom was a volcanic eruption. There were two possible theories in what started the Doom of Valyria. The most logical was that a volcano erupted destroying all in its wake and turn a region into several islands. The lava so hot it killed the dragons when splutter through the air, along with debris, fire, and smoke. A cataclysm that quakes the earth and risen the tsunamis to drown the lands. The second theory was that the dragon warlocks were doing a spell that retaliated into creating demons. Those demons remain killing all of the Valyrians and dragons, leaving nothing but stone and poison water.

In the end, the Doom of Valyria caused the collapse of a great empire. The beginning to the end of the dragon and the dragon riders. Now three dragons remain and two riders.

However, Jorah knew that they need to be careful for the Stone Men to resign in these parts. From what he could recall, they were entering the ruined city. They will travel the Smoking Sea and hopefully reach Oros. There they can restock on supplies since there was inhabitant there who keep the Stone men away. Any land before Tyria was a risk in encountering a Stoneman. People plague with Greyscale severely doomed in a cursed death sentence.

Time went on as they sailed the waters highly alerted. Seeing the ruins of architecture, they never have seen before. Seeing topless towers, and statues of sphinxes and dragons. They were everywhere covered in vines, moss, and greenery — a sense of melancholy, a sorrow peace.

"The Smoking Sea. How many centuries before we learn how to build cities like this again?" Tyrion asked. "For thousands of years, the Valyrians were the best in the world at almost everything. And then…"

"And then they weren't," Jorah murmured.

"And then they weren't," Tyrion repeated in agreement. After a while, the dwarf started to quote a poem. "They held each other close and turned their backs upon the world. The hills that split asunder and the black that ate the skies; The flames that shot so high and hot that even dragons burned; Would never be the final sights, that fell upon their eyes. A fly upon a wall that waves the sea wind whipped and churned—"

Jorah listened to this as he lost himself in memory back in Yunkai. Alysanne in her evening robes was glancing out into the ocean. Unaware he was there, as she quoted the poem of her ancestors. A dragoness in all her beauty, hair illuminating under the moonlit sky. The night they first made love. Not a care in who they were other than their true selves.

"The city of a thousand years and all that men had learned; The Doom consumed it all alike, and neither of them turned," Jorah finished, glancing at Tyrion.

The dwarf was impressed, lifting his tied-up hands, "I would clap."

Jorah gave a slight snort then focus back what lies ahead.

"I suppose this is it, then," Tyrion said. "This is what remains."

They were crossing through a crumbling bridge when seeing a dark mass approaching. Both men looked up, in awe seeing it was a dragon. Jorah analyzing it further, seeing it was black and red, confirms it to be Drogon. Daenerys's dragon. Seeing the dragon no longer the size of a horse. Not sure what to compare its size too, maybe that of an elephant? Tyrion stood up eyes widen in amazement and awe and fear. They were a distraction by Drogon that their concentration broke when hearing a splash. Both men looked up ahead, seeing a disturbance in the water as ripples form.

"What was that?" Tyrion asked.

Jorah scowled, standing up trying to guide the tiller to maneuver the sailboat away from the bridge. However, it was too late. Still on guard, he decided to reach for his sword, when all of a sudden something jumped onto the ship. The impact of surprise startled them, seeing a giant mass of grey in human form. It hissed and growl, eyes bloodshot red, teeth yellow, and skin grey and cracked, it resembles stone.

"Stone Men! Don't let them touch you!" Jorah warned.

Tyrion stumbled back as the Stoneman leaped towards him. The dwarf was trying to make the distance. Jorah grabbed one of the oars and struck the Stoneman shoving it away from Tyrion. It hisses, lashing at him, that Jorah pulled back while trying to push the infectious man off the boat. The Stoneman grabbed the oar, waving its hand to touch him. Another jumped on the ship, heading toward Tyrion. The dwarf grabbed a crab cage trying to use it as a shield. Jorah noticed this gave one more shove knocking his opponent back in the water. Quickly, reaching forward grabbing Tyrion and yank the half-man behind him.

"Get behind," Jorah order.

The second Stoneman lashed out, luckily Jorah blocked it with the oar.

"Mormont, cut me free!" Tyrion yelled.

That distracted Jorah that the second Stoneman took hold of the oar and swung at Jorah almost knocking him overboard. Jorah grabbed the oar again and pushed the Stoneman off the boat. He turned around seeing the first one back on board, followed by a third jumping from the beams. Immediately, Jorah grabbed his sword and sliced the third in the stomach before thrusting the blade into the chest. Something wet touched his left wrist. Before Jorah could comprehend, he kicked the Stoneman off the ship. Looking up, he saw Tyrion rolled off the boat preventing the first Stoneman from touching him.

The first Stoneman hissed, jumping up turning to Jorah. The exiled knight corrected his grip and waited for the Stoneman to strike. It lashed forward and taking the opportunity Jorah decapitated partially. Either way, the infectious man was dead falling back into the boat. Jorah cursed since he couldn't move the body without the risk of being infected. The entire boat was compromised since the stone men touched everything.

When Tyrion didn't emerge from the water, Jorah realized the half-man is drowning. Having no choice, he jumped into the water to save Tyrion. The dwarf was being pulled down by a Stoneman from his boot. However just as Jorah was about to grab Tyrion the creature let go sinking to the bottom. Jorah took this opportunity to collect Tyrion and swam to the service.

Knowing the grounds were not safe, Jorah kept to the water swimming, backward while maintaining a secure hold on Tyrion. Making sure the Lannister's head was above the water. Although, he was mistaken about dwarves being lightweight.

**.o0o.**

Back on the shores of Essos, Jorah panted exhausted after dragging Tyrion onto the beach. He set the Lannister down and gently shoved his shoulder in trying to wake him. Not sure if the prisoner drowned already from the Stone Men or the long swim. And the last thing he wanted to do is a revival trick.

"Tyrion. Tyrion. Tyrion?" Jorah panted, seeing the Lannister eyes fluttered. "Tyrion. Tyrion. Tyrion!"

This woken Tyrion coughed sitting up while spitting out water. Jorah helped him sit up properly.

"You're all right," Jorah said, pulling out his dagger and cut the ropes that retrained Tyrion's wrist. "You're heavier than you look. Did any of them touch you?"

Tyrion shook his head, "You?"

Jorah paused thinking about it and shook his head.

"I've seen greyscale before, but nothing like that." Tyrion panted.

"I suppose that's why they send them there," Jorah panted.

"It'd be kinder to put daggers in their hearts and be done with it," Tyrion said.

Jorah spat some water.

"Thank you for saving me," Tyrion said. "Of course, I wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't kidnapped me in the first place. So, what now?"

Jorah rolled his eyes as he stood up, "We walked up to the coast. With luck, we'll find a fishing village. Maybe another boat."

"Without luck?" Tyrion asked, rubbing his wrist.

"We've got a long walk ahead of us," Jorah answered, examining the area. "I'll get some wood for a fire. Try to get some rest, huh?"

Tyrion scoffed, "That's the best idea you've had all day."

Seeing that Tyrion won't run, Jorah left to find some firewood. As he walked along the shore, he stopped staring at the ruins in one of the abandon cities where they swim out of — seeing the buildings and towers being disguised by the fog. Examining the dangerous beauty of what the Valyrians reside in. Thoughts were lingering in the stories, and Alysanne was quoting the poem.

Suddenly he felt a tightness in his left forearm as if his skin was being stretched and ripped until hardening like a callous. He tensed, carefully rolling up his sleeve on his left arm to reveal a small patch of skin stiff and cracked. His blue eyes widen, for he was sure the Stone Men didn't touch him. Then he thought back to using his sword and the blood splatter. His sleeves were rolled up at the time, and though he kept much distance, a drop made contact to his skin.

Jorah tried to think of the options. He could cut off the infected tissue and burn it to sterilize the area. Or he could cut his left arm off. However, there is a chance the disease is in his system. If he had vinegar, he would be able to reduce the spread. In the end, he comprehended he was a dead man. There was no documented cure for greyscale other than cutting the limb off and pray to any god he has been a cure.

Glancing over his shoulder seeing Tyrion catching his breath while watching the sunset knew there was no other option. The Lannister has no chance of survival in these parts of Essos. Knowing that if Alysanne doesn't kill Tyrion out of revenge, the dwarf may be of use to her. Accepting death, he had a mission to get Tyrion to Meereen. Knowing he can never be with the woman that he loves ever again. Not prepared to risk spreading the infection on Alysanne. If he were to die, all he could ask is to be forgiven.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	37. Chapter 37: A Slave in Everyone

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 37: A Slave in Everyone**

_Jorah's POV_

The Exiled Knight decided to take a break. As usual, since walking, Tyrion mutters his complaint of hunger and wine. They were able to come across a lake containing fresh water. There was a bit of salt since the sea was close by, but the earth neutralizes the salt water to near fresh water. Jorah also found some berries and roots that were edible. He gave the food to Tyrion before walking over to the water to get a better look at the greyscale. So far it has not spread only calcified. He wonders how long he has before the disease petrifies his humanity to become a stone beast. Sighing, he removed the blue scarf and drenched it in the water before washing his neck.

"So, those villages we were supposed to find? We can't live on berries and roots," Tyrion said, hold red berries.

"I can," Jorah said, securing his scarf.

Tyrion scowled at him. The Knight had experience of prolonged fasting. Having grown up on Bear Island where natural resources were limited. Lived most of his life traveling, knowing how to ration food, scavenge from the earth and know what is poisonous and what is polluted — learning from Bear Island Maester, his father, aunt, and the Dothraki. Skills that have come into use. The Lannister, on the other hand, was used to having someone serving him.

"You're not hungry?" Tyrion asked.

"Of course, I'm hungry," Jorah answered, walking back.

"You're an awful traveling companion, do you know that? Possibly the least charming man I've ever met."

"I'm not your traveling companion."

"We are traveling together in each other's company, therefore—"

"Do you ever shut up?" Jorah snapped breaking his composure.

Never in his life has he met someone so annoying by talking. At first, he though Daario Naharis fit that role. However, Tyrion Lannister clearly won the prize of being the person to make him snap and lose his composure.

Tyrion glared at Jorah, "I sailed from King's Landing to Pentos in a crate without saying a word."

"Why?" Jorah asked sitting down on a fallen branch.

"It never occurred to you to ask why until now?" Tyrion asked back. "You never wondered why Tyrion Lannister decided to visit a brothel in Volantis?"

"I'm sure you visited many brothels in many cities," Jorah countered.

There was a sorrow expression written on the Lannister's face, "I killed my father."

This surprised Jorah. Patricide is one major sin in the Faith of the Seven. Killing any family member on purpose that wasn't part of the birthing bed had a place in one of the seven hells. Or at least that is what Jorah knew, since he grew up on the Old Religion, even though his mother was of the Seven. Still, hearing what Tyrion confessed, has confirmed that Tywin Lannister was dead. The man who made Houses go extinct, brutally sack King's Landing, and the desolation of House Targaryen. Also, the man who sent the second pardon scroll that ruins his relationship and position.

"He wanted to execute me for a crime I didn't commit," Tyrion explained. "And he was fucking the woman I loved."

Jorah nodded, knowing the feeling of someone else taking away a spouse. He got up giving some space as he looked over the horizon of the waters.

"As miserable as you are, Mormont, at least your father was a good man," Tyrion said.

"What do you know about my father?" Jorah asked.

"I met him. I visited the Wall." Tyrion answered. "When I asked him about his men, he knew all their stories, every one of them. He actually cared about the people under his command. How do they put it in the Watch? 'We shall never see his like again.' "

Jorah nodded then stopped on the last verse. His face grew heavy and felt a tightness in his chest. Did he hear correctly? Did Tyrion quote the Night's Watch funeral prayer with his father? The Knight looked at the dwarf silently asking him this.

Tyrion's eyes widen, "Oh, you didn't know. I'm sorry. I am."

"How?" Jorah asked.

"I only know what I heard," Tyrion stated.

"How?" Jorah demanded.

"He was leading an expedition beyond the Wall. There was a mutiny. He was murdered by his own men." Tyrion informed.

Jorah comprehended his words and nodded, "We better keep moving."

They started their walk not saying another word.

Jorah was lost in his thoughts thinking about his father. Being the only son, that disgraced him. Jeor Mormont abdicated his post as Lord of Bear Island and took the black to give Jorah a chance to lead. Since Jeor and his wife had Jorah very young, all Jorah wanted was to make his father proud. But it took one woman to ruin his father legacy when Jorah sold two poachers into slavery. Bringing great dishonor, Jorah went into exile, though had the courtesy to leave Longclaw. During his exile, he received a letter from his father asking him to come back to Westeros and take the black. Be a member of the Night's Watch and be pardon of his crimes.

But Jorah couldn't. He didn't want to return and see the disappointment in his father's eyes. Now he wonders what if he did decide to return to Westeros. Would his father have forgiven him over time? Could he have been there to protect his father against the men who betrayed him? How can a mutiny happen? Jeor Mormont was the most highly respected man in Westeros. As Tyrion said, he cares for all his brethren and remembers each Crows' story.

Deep down, Jorah had hoped to return to Westeros by the Targaryens and show his father another way of redemption. Tell his father he had helped Queen Alysanne abolish slavery in Slaver's Bay. How he found a new purpose in life. Although, he wonders how Jeor would think since House Mormont fought against the Targaryens. Now, Jorah had missed an opportunity out of his selfish action.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

More coughs erupted as I spat up the water. Ser Barristan stared at me concern seeing how much I've been struggling. Dragon fire may not have harmed me externally, but the smoke still lingers in my lungs. It was normal for people to cough for weeks after escaping a fire. However, the newfound stress had gotten to me. Making it difficult to get some rest and recover properly.

Already Daenerys has been making things difficult. Trying to convince me not to marry Hizdahr, however, it wasn't helping. I got the Great Masters, Wise Masters, Good Masters, and Freemen pushing and pulling me around demanding and wanting things from me. Now add this stupid wedding. I'm already dreading the fertility ritual. I had to take myself off the Lys elixir in order to prevent suspicions.

Once more so much has happened. Yesterdays the Son of the Harpy who was under my custody was put on trial. I along with Hizdahr and the new representative name Marselen for the freemen. I sat on the ebony pedestal on the top of the steps with Missandei and Ser Barristan behind me. Hizdahr and Marselen sat on the middle steps in chairs of cedar while the accused stood on the bottom platform. All around were the Masters and the Freemen council along with witnesses for the trial.

The Son of the Harpy went first, based on the evidence that was presented on White Rat's murdered. All three of us found the man guilty and would be put to the sword. Next was Mossador, on the grounds of treason and attempted murder. We found Mossador guilty; however, it was put to the vote on his sentencing. Marselen and Hizdahr agreed that Mossador is not worthy to receive death. Instead, he was exiled as the man was put on a ship going straight to Ghaen. Mercy. Mossador was given mercy when others have not.

What was hard was passing the sentencing of the sword. Remembering Jorah's words about being a lord in Westeros, "The man who passes the sentences should swing the sword."

So, after the trial, the Council and I went to City Square where the citizens of Meereen stood. On the left was the Meereenese while on the right was the Freemen. All the liberated slaves were calling me Mhysa! By the time were on the stage, I addressed my subjects in Valyrian.

_"You opened your gates to me because I promised you freedom and justice. One cannot exist without the other."_ I said.

The Unsullied brought the Harpy in. Forcing him on his knees before his people. He was overwhelmed and shocked.

_"A citizen of Meereen was found guilty by three judges on the crimes of treason and murdered of an Unsullied Officer. His name was White Rat. He served his life to protect you all. Only to be killed by this coward behind a mask. The punishment is death."_

The crowd made noises that were hard to make out. I glanced at the Meereenese who stood there with neutral faces. Some were giving an approving nod since it was a fair trial. Along with Hizdahr having a part in the decision. On the Freemen side, they were cheering. Taking a deep breath, I drew my sword and walked over to the Harpy. I told him to say his prayers and final words. Understanding death was here, he whispered his prayers and bowed his head.

Adjusting my grip, I rested the Valyrian blade on top of his neck. Taking a deep breath, I raised the sword and beheaded the Harpy. The traitor's head falling to the ground, grown eyes blinking until it stops. Meanwhile, his body dropped, blood seeping to the ground. I stared at it, for this was my official kill. I have slain the Undying Ones and warlocks as a means of protecting my sister, but the execution was entirely different. It was a choice, not an impulse decision. By a fair trial, I passed the sentence and swung the sword. After that, I return to the pyramid wanting to be alone.

Now I focus on paperwork, yet the coughing continues.

Ser Barristan came over pulling me away from the desk and papers.

"Your Grace," he said. "You should rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," I jest when I got my breathing in order.

"Your Grace, as your Queensguard it is my duty to protect you from those who dare harm you and from yourself. You've done so much, probably weeks ahead for Meereen, and laws in Astapor and Yunkai. It's time to rest," he said.

Staring at the desk seeing nothing but one piece of paper left. I picked it up and read the content. It was about improving hostels. "Give this to Daenerys. Since she is in charge of the living arrangements for the mass halls and barracks."

Ser Barristan nodded in approval as he helped me out of my chair and escorted me to my chambers. I know I'm exerting myself. Stressing to the point that my body can't recuperate. Not after Daenerys stunt, and the recent execution; do I caution about the Sons of the Harpy and the third party involved. The investigation is going nowhere. All we got is finger pointing and theoretical assumptions that go nowhere without proof. And since the Harpies in the riot are dead along with the one, I executed, we are stuck. Someone is paying for these mercenaries to help support the Sons of the Harpies. On finance records from the Masters, it is not from them. At least those of the Council and the 163 ancient families.

Once in my room and alone, I changed out of my attire into evening robes. When I sat by the vanity to free my hair, I stared at my reflection. All I saw was a tired woman. Thin by the anxiety and stress, bruising under her eyes from the lack of sleep, and eyes appearing almost empty. I no longer feel like myself. It was like the weight of responsibility has suffocated me.

I knew that being a ruler holds a tremendous amount of responsibility. The world has its eyes on me from enemies in the city, enemies in Ghiscar, and enemies in Westeros. However, my duty for Westeros may come to an end or passing the torch onto Daenerys. The Westerosi don't know that a emanate threat will go south from the Wall and bring back the Long Night. How can I help them if I am bound to Slaver's Bay once I marry? The best thing I can do is prepare Daenerys, train the dragons, and…

I sighed bowing my head.

Large invisible chain and collar forged around me. Destiny, fate, inheritance, duty, and honor was dragging me to the ground. All alone. Those who are loyal are subjects. My only family disrespects me and can have the Targaryen madness. And the one I love is a ghost that will never let me be.

Sometimes I wish the invisible chains be gone and return to Braavos.

Back home in the House of the Red Door.

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

The two travelers were making way through the cliffs having a better view of the Gulf of Grief.

"Why Alysanne? Why is she worth all this?" Tyrion asked. "As I recall, the Mormont's fought against the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion."

"Do you believe in anything?" Jorah asked.

"I believe in lots of things," Tyrion answered.

"In something greater than ourselves, I mean. The gods, destiny." Jorah clarified, then stopped facing the dwarf. "Do you believe there's a plan for this world?"

Tyrion looked around, "No."

"Neither did I. I was a cynic just like you. Then I saw a battered woman step in front of her brother-husband to protect her pregnant sister. A sword aimed at her chest. She did not hesitate. When Viserys cut her chest and shoved her into the fire. When I pulled her out of the fire, there was not a burn on her." Jorah said. "Not long after, I saw her sister step into a great fire with three stone eggs. When the fire burned out, I thought I'd find her blackened bones. Instead, I saw them, the Dragon Sisters, holding three baby dragons. Both touch by fire, alive and unhurt. Have you ever heard baby dragons singing?"

"No," Tyrion said.

"It's hard to be a cynic after that," Jorah said, walking again.

"Doesn't mean she's going to be a great queen." Tyrion inquired.

"No, it doesn't."

"The Targaryens are famously insane. What if she conquers the word? Then what? A thousand years of peace and prosperity?"

"First we have to conquer the world."

"We? All right, let's assume your dreams come true. She's ecstatic when you bring her this enemy dwarf. She hacks off my head and restores your position. You command her army, sail to Westeros, defeat all your enemies and watch her climb those steps and sit on the Iron Throne. Hurrah. Long Live the Queen. Then what?"

"Then she rules."

"So, a woman who has not spent a single day of her adult life in Westeros becomes the ruler of Westeros? That's justice?"

"She's the rightful heir."

"Why? Because her father who burned living men for amusement, was the king?"

"Alysanne is not returning to Westeros because of a throne. She's coming to save it from a Great War."

"Great War? You mean the war that is to come from her?"

Jorah sighed, not sure how to explain magic to Tyrion. When Alysanne came out of the House of the Undying, he had a hard time believing the vision his lover saw. He went along with it, to appease her sanity since she has been questioning if she was going mad. Jorah assumed the visions were the hallucinations from Shade of the Evening, having his own experience with that foul wine. However, when word came of the Red Wedding fitting the same description of Alysanne's vision, he feared for the worse.

The Knight was about to explain until spotting a ship, the sails were tied, but he could tell the ship was from the Summer Isles, and the majority of the Summer Isle ships are associated with piracy. Quickly, he grabbed Tyrion and slouch behind some boulders.

"That's a slave ship," Jorah whispered.

"Why are they anchored?" Tyrion asked.

"They probably came ashore for –"

"Water," another voice answered with the sound of swords scraping from scabbards.

They turned seeing seven men. The Knight noticed some were from the Summer Isles while others were Ghiscari. Jorah knew they were outnumbered, and his dagger wasn't enough to defend himself. Having no choice, the two surrendered.

.**o0o**.

Jorah was met with a punch in the face by the pirate captain Malko. Already, he and Tyrion were captured, their hands tied and brought to shore. They were on their knees as Malko, and his first mate evaluated them while the rest of the crew carried barrels of water back to the boats. The impact of Malko's fist knocked him over. He groaned, forcing himself up.

"Got a lot of fight in you, huh?" Malko chuckled and punched Jorah again. The pirate went over to the first mate.

"Salt mines?" the first mate asked.

"Yeah, that or a galley slave," Malko answered. "He looks strong enough?"

Jorah glared at him.

"What about the dwarf?" the first mate asked.

"Worthless," Malko said after analyzing Tyrion. "Cut his throat."

The first mate nodded, drawing his dagger and walked over to Tyrion.

"Wait. Wait. Wait, wait, wait! Let's discuss this," Tyrion pleaded.

"And then chop off his cock," Malko added, walking back to the rowboat. "We'll sell it for a fortune. A dwarf's cock has magic powers."

Tyrion's eyes widen while his face grew pale, "Wait! Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" soon the first mate had the dagger against Tyrion throat. "You can't just hand a dry cock to a merchant and expect him to pay for it. He has to know it came from a dwarf. And how could he know unless he sees the dwarf?"

"It will be a dwarf-sized cock," the first mate said.

"Guess again," Tyrion growled.

They looked at Malko for the decision.

"The dwarf lives until we find a cock merchant."

The first mate put his dagger away and stood up. Tyrion sighed in relief, panting. Jorah was impressed by the Lannisters quick thinking. Two of the pirates came over forcing him up.

"Queen Alysanne has outlawed slavery," Jorah reminded.

"We're bound for Volantis, not Slaver's Bay," Malko said, getting on the boat. "Besides, she reopened the fighting pits. I've never heard of free men fighting in the pits. Also, she is getting married to a Great Master."

Jorah's was baffled by this. He felt like he was punched in the face again. Something was not right. He knew Alysanne wouldn't merely marry a Great Master. Marrying a Ghiscari would bind her to Essos. As well, her sacred vow to not marry out of tradition or alliances. Something must have happened, that she is being pressured to marry. Possibly the same method that Xaro Xhoan Daxos did. Still, the shock took hold.

"The fighting pits in Meereen? You're in luck, then. You're about to be rich." Tyrion said, getting the pirate's attention. "You are looking at one of the great warriors in the Seven Kingdoms."

Malko laughed thinking it was Tyrion. But the dwarf gestured to Jorah, "Him."

"Him? He's got to be sixty years old," Malko scoffed.

_I'm not that old,_ Jorah thought bitterly.

"Sure, he's a bit long in the tooth, a bit withered, been in the sun too long. We can all see that. But he is a veteran of a hundred battles." Tyrion exaggerated. "They wrote songs about him."

Malko looked at Jorah, gesturing him to come over, "That true?"

Jorah nodded.

"He won the tournament at Lannisport. Unseating Set Jaime Lannister himself," Tyrion added. "The Kingslayer."

Jorah held his tongue. He tied with Ser Jaime Lannister at the tournament of Lannisport. After breaking their nine lances with no result, Robert Baratheon granted him the victory. Not a earn victory.

Malko laughed, "Jousting. You're talking about jousting. A fancy game for fancy lads. The men who fight in the pits of Meereen will swallow him whole."

"I killed a Dothraki blood rider in single combat," Jorah announced.

This caught Malko's attention, as he came over getting into Jorah's face, "Liar."

"It's no lie. His name was Qotho. He was blood rider to Khal Drogo. Take me to Slaver's Bay, put a sword in my hand. I'll prove my worth." Jorah promised.

Dark eyes stared into blue eyes. The Knight was telling the truth. Malko smiled, laughing some.

"A Westerosi knight is worth double the honors," Malko said.

Jorah merely nodded.

They were taken aboard the ship and tied to the post. Now the journey will be quicker to Meereen than Jorah anticipated. However, when one of the pirates forced a collar on him, a feeling of suppression came over. Realizing this was how the two men he sold felt when bought by slavers. Jorah knew selling himself was the only way to get back to Alysanne.

* * *

**So, what do you guys think?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	38. Chapter 38: The Gift

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

* * *

**Chapter 38: The Gift.**

_Outside of Meereen_

Jorah and Tyrion were attached to a link of chains with other slaves, the pirates were docking outside of Meereen. A black market of slavers selling men to the masters. Jorah sighed, for if he were able to see Alysanne again, he would report this. As if the Masters were trying to find loopholes when Slavery was abolished. However, it depends on his fate if a Fighting Master buys him for the pits. Even then, he needs to survive in order to reach the Great Games.

Malko yanked the chains forcing Jorah onto the stage. Jorah recognized some of the masters from the trials, although it seems they do not remember him. Then again, it has almost been six months. The first mate came over removing the iron collar. He sighed feeling some of the weight off his neck.

"A rare find for the fighting pits, my friends," Malko said. "Not your usual street tough or a drunken pirate. This one's a Westerosi knight from an ancient house trained in sword and lance. He fought beside that stag king Robert on the far side of the Narrow Sea. He was first through the breach during the Siege of Spike, slaughtering fifty men with his flaming sword."

_That was Thoros of Myr,_ Jorah though. _I was second._

The Masters chuckled trying to imagine Jorah with a flaming sword.

"He killed the great Khal Drogo in single combat," Malko added.

_I fought Qotho to prevent demons from leaving the tent._ Jorah mentally corrected.

Khal Drogo was a good friend who let Jorah be part of the Khalasar. Jorah looked at Tyrion wondering what other misguided information he gave to the pirate. Tyrion looked down, as Malko continued.

"Betrayed by his woman, he sold himself into slavery to repay his debts. Bidding begins at twelve gold honors." Malko finished.

_Lynesse,_ Jorah sighed.

The crowd murmured debating on buying Jorah or not. The Exiled Knight stood there watching as men examined him as if he was an animal instead of a human being. Now he understands what a slave goes through. Standing here like property as men put your worth on money, and treat you as nothing but a tool. The two poachers he sold must have gone through this. It made him wonder if he should have cut off their hand or offer the Black instead of selling them to slavers. A price and a choice for their criminal actions. Instead of thinking about his debts to please Lynesse's spending.

Soon the betting begins as Malko raised the price to receive more money. One Master in a brown tokar stood there lifting his hand. When it got to sixteen, the Master in brown raised a pouch in the air.

"Twenty," the Master offered.

"Sold," Malko accepted.

The Master tossed Malko the pouch. The pirate caught it, and yanked Jorah off the stage and handed him to the Master's guard, who grabbed the chains. They started walking, which stated the Master was not interested in more purchases. Jorah glanced over his shoulder to Tyrion who was nervous. He knew the dwarf has no chance. If Tyrion is not bought, the pirates will take him to a cock merchant.

"Wait! You have to buy me as well!" Tyrion shouted, rushing forward, only to be stopped by the adolescent pirate who has been beating him all day.

The Brown Master stopped looking at Tyrion, "Why?"

"We're a team," Tyrion answered pointing at Jorah. "I'm a great fighter, too."

The Meereenese laughed at him.

"He's funny. You have to give him that," Malko chuckled.

Tyrion scowled, yanking his leashed that knocked the adolescent pirate down onto the ground. Using the chain whipping and beating the boy who cried out trying to block each blow. The Meereenese laughed, cheering this on. It was until Tyrion kicked the young man in the chest did he stops. The Brown Master looked at Tyrion and sighed.

"You're right, he's funny," the Brown Master said, giving Malko two honors. Then gestured his head to Tyrion to follow.

"Thank you, my lord. Thank you," The dwarf said. "My lord, if I may. I've heard Meereen has become a free city. You might run into trouble if you try to fight slaves in the fighting pits. Now, if you were to fight freedmen who'd be paid a wage—"

Tyrion was met with a smack in the face.

"There's your wages, funny man," the Brown Master said, giving him one honor. "Should last the rest of your life."

The Brown Master being considerate gave Jorah an honor as well. The exiled knight caught it, staring at the gold coin with a harpy engrave. Jorah held on it tightly, knowing it can be of use in the future. The guard tugs on the chains, ordering them to move. Jorah looked up staring at the Great Pyramid wondering what the girls were doing, wondering if Alysanne was safe.

.**o0o**.

_Daenerys's POV_

The Mother of Dragons giggled after having sex with Daario. After a few weeks, the Captain of the Second Sons was reinstated back into his position. No longer mucking up the stables and elephant dung, although both knew they have to be careful and not be impulsive like before.

"How long before the King of Meereen comes to claim my pillow?" Daario teased.

"Don't be ridiculous," Daenerys said tracing Daario's chest. "Alysanne's marriage to Hizdahr is political. I think he's smart enough to understand that."

"I think the Sons of the Harpy have stopped killing because their leader was made king." He said.

"Are you jealous? Another handsome man wandering through the grounds?" she teased, twiddling his beard.

"You think I'm petty enough to speak ill of a man because he represents competition?" Daario joked.

Daenerys chuckled, as did he. She knows Daario doesn't hold romantic feelings for Alysanne. The Sellsword respected her sister, a loyal subject to the queen and nothing more.

"My motivations are entirely impure," he continued his joke, then moved to kiss her passionately. He moved on top nestled between her legs. "Doesn't make me wrong."

He went back to kissing her neck.

Daenerys sighed wrapping her arms around him, "You told me yourself we can't fight enemies within and without. So, when enemies come knocking, Alys needs the city of Meereen behind us. She has no choice."

Daario pulled back, "Everyone has a choice. Even slaves have a choice – death or slavery."

"So what else can I do, hmm?" she asked.

"Marry me," he answered looking into her eyes.

Daenerys smiled, "Even if I wanted to do such an inadvisable thing, I couldn't."

"Why not? You are a princess. And you told me yourself that the Queen allows you to choose your husband. You can do what you like."

"True," Daenerys mumbled.

The thing was she messed up too many times, and now her sister was left to clean up the mess she'd made. Ultimately costing Alysanne's freedom to find love again. Daenerys thought if a political marriage would be needed when they return to Westeros, she was willing to give that sacrifice.

"You are freed. Alysanne is the only person in Meereen, who's not free," he murmured. He got off while Daenerys sat up. He knew Daenerys feels guilty in her sister's sacrifice. "And I know I'm here to serve you and your sister and not give advice, but can I make one suggestion?"

Daenerys curled up to him, "Of course."

"On the day of the great games, gather all the Great Masters and Wise Masters and Worthy Masters you can find and slaughter them all. This will free your sister."

"I am a princess, not a butcher." She said baffled by this.

Daario tucks a strand of hair out of her face, "All rulers are either butchers or meat."

They went to sleep, more like Daario went to sleep. When Daenerys knew he was asleep, she climbed out of bed and put on her robe. She quietly walked out of her chambers and went to Alysanne's quarters. The Unsullied were on guard, but they did not mind her. When she reached the door, she knocked to see if Alysanne was awake. Hearing nothing, she went inside regardless as she needed to speak to her.

However, when she entered, she found Alysanne asleep in bed with a book on her chest. The room smelled of herbs, knowing the incense was burning to make Alysanne's breathing easier. The past couple of days Alysanne's coughing has been reduced. But still, a few coughs come now and then. Daenerys carefully removed the book and set it on the nightstand. She glanced at her sister and frowned, seeing how thin her sister had become along with the bruising under her eyes.

Deciding to let her sister sleep, Daenerys adjusted the blanket and blew out the candles. Deep down all Daenerys wanted to do was help her sister. The majority of her life, it was Alysanne who raised her, protected her from Viserys, assassins, and others who lay harm. Her sister who taught her many things, and yet she refused to keep the knowledge in the long run. When Daenerys was a true Khaleesi, it was her chance to pay that debt. Free and protect Alysanne from Viserys and others. Until Khal Drogo's death. Once more, Alysanne did all that was necessary in protecting Daenerys.

Something always bothered Daenerys deeply. She was wondering why Alysanne was so desperate in teaching her how to be a leader. She assumed it had to do with the visions from the Undying Ones or something else. Either way, Daenerys felt guilty that she wasn't doing things right. She wanted to help; it's just she doesn't know what to do.

She sighed going back to her chambers.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

A sigh escaped my lips staring at the Tokar laying on the bed. Not just any tokar that the Meereenese wear, but a formal one. A wedding gown. It was white silk, fringed with baby pearls, which symbolizes fertility. Along with a dark red veil. The accessories were a pair of golden sandals, an armband in shape of a dragon, and a jeweled headband that will secure the veil. This was my wedding attire. The outfit I will wear after the great games.

The Masters wanted me to wear their fashion to earn their respect. Already dresses were made, as I stared at the assortment in blues, whites, blacks and purple. The purple one being for the Great Games. I sighed, feeling lost in all this, having no support from anyone. Ser Barristan and Missandei didn't like the decision, but it was the only way to keep the peace. Daenerys kept her distance however, when seeing the gifts of the Meereenese tradition of betrothal, she would make a snide comment. Meanwhile Hizdahr was trying to educate me about the Meereenese culture. He wasn't forcing me to convert to the Ghiscari culture, not telling me to change my religion. He was even considerate to put the vows of the Seven.

Lately, I started to follow Ser Barristan's advice to take a break from paperwork and supplicants, I would either rest or explore the city with my intended as we tour the Temple of the Graces, the Daznak's pit, the markets, and the public gardens. Hizdahr was going over the landmark's history, including areas that were remains of the Valyrian Freehold. Taking me to what was called a pantheon made of marble with a dome ceiling, and on the roof was an opening that allows direct sunlight. Inside looked like the illustrations from books of Valyria in its glorious times. Statues of the Valyrian gods, and fresco paintings of dragons.

"I didn't know this was here," I whispered.

"Not many do," Hizdahr said. "It was a temple for the Valyrians, made after the second war. Many ancient families try to preserve history. Not all should be forgotten."

I nodded walking over to the statues of the Valyrian gods, reading the ancient writings of Balerion, Meraxes, Syrax, and Vhagar. Devine entities in their armors for dragonlords. Their faces covered in armor helmets that resembled a dragon or dragon feature.

"Thank you for showing me this," I told Hizdahr. "I thought I'd never get a chance to see my ancestral home."

"You're welcome, Your Grace," Hizdahr said with a small smile.

We were trying to make this work, neither of us wanted to get married to one another. Nevertheless, it was our obligation and duty to keep the peace. Although, I wasn't pleased when he told me I should visit the fighting pits, yet another tradition.

As I got ready, changing into my black and red gown. I had my hair up secured by the Targaryen brooch. Soon Ser Barristan came in, his left arm no longer in a sling. Even though, I recommended he should focus on recovering instead of being on duty. He held a small jewelry box.

"Your order arrived from the silversmith," Ser Barristan said.

"Thank you," I said, accepting the jewelry box and open it.

Inside were twin rings. Both rings made of silver, each holding two pearls as the settings were in shape of lilies A gift for Daenerys. I want to mend our bond. Let her know that I still love and care for her no matter what. The distance isn't helping, and I don't want the Masters' concessions to ruin our family. So, walking out of my bedchambers, I went over to the terrace where Daenerys sat on the bench reading her scriptures.

"Dany," I spoke.

She looked up surprised.

"May I sit next to you?" I asked.

Daenerys nodded, making room so I could join.

"I have something for you," I said, handing her the jewelry box.

She accepted it, curious before opening the lid to reveal the two rings. Her eyes widened and looked at me. "You shouldn't have."

"But I did," I said, taking her hand. "I know the last couple of weeks have been hard with all that has happened."

"I know," She sighed looking down. "I didn't mean to betray you."

"You're a wild dragon," I murmured. "A free spirit. Something that most Targaryen princesses have of Queen Rhaenys."

"Does that make you Visenya?" she teased.

"Probably," I chuckled then sighed. "A lot of changes are going to happen. I know you don't like the Masters, along with their concessions. But we need to make peace and forge alliances."

"Yet you will not be happy," she said.

I sighed, "A queen is never happy. A ruler must make sacrifices in what is good for the realm. Even if its cost's her, her freedom."

"This is my fault," she whispered.

"Our fault," I corrected. "All we can do is except the consequences of our actions and learn from it."

I took one of the rings and slide it on her finger, "This marriage will bind me to Essos. When the time comes, you will sail to Westeros and reclaim our home."

"Not without you," she protested. "You deserve the Iron Throne."

I smiled softly and cradled her cheek, "I do not seek the Iron Throne or the Red Keep. What I desire are two things. One is to keep you safe and home. And two, restore House Targaryen's name. I personally don't want history to be written as the day father grew mad. I want people to read in the books that Daenerys and Alysanne Targaryen fought for the realm and started a new dynasty. The day you brought the dragons to this world, was the day our legacy began."

Daenerys nodded as she took the twin ring and slid it on my finger.

We held each other's hand.

"No matter where you go, no matter where I am, I will always be there for you," I said and kissed her cheek.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too," I murmured back. "I must go."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To the fighting pits," I answered. "Care to join?"

Daenerys scowled shaking her head. I couldn't help but chuckle thinking back when we were children. Nothing else to say, I kissed her forehead and stood up. With one more goodbye, I left the pyramid to meet Hizdahr.

**.o0o.**

_The Lower Pits_

In a long corridor, Jorah and Tyrion sat on the benches waiting for the pregame to begin. They learned that the man who bought them was Yezzan zo Qaggaz. He was not a master, but a slave trader who found worthy fighters. Mainly in small games. Keeping the masses entertained throughout the fighting season, preparing worthy champions for the Great Games. Even if it means breaking the new laws and lying on the papers stating they signed up for the tournament.

Jorah sat next to Tyrion who was chained to the wall. The dwarf was not pleased, but Yezzan wanted to make sure the funny man doesn't escape. The dwarf was the fighters' source of entertainment. The knight sighed, and used a wet stone to sharpen the sword that he was given. Massive with angles and curves that relies on the weight in the swing than the control of the wielder. Let alone his armor was that of a padded leather gambeson, bracers, and a helmet. All around men fixed their limited armor and makeshift weapons.

"Many worthy fighters have died trying to make it to the great games," Yezzan said. "When most of you worthless scum join them in death this afternoon, it will represent a significant rise in your station. But if you do happen to triumph here, you will fight at the Great Pit of Daznak itself in front of the queen. So, whatever happens, the gods have smiled upon you today. This is the day your lives actually start to mean something."

Yezzan started selecting opponents for the first game. Jorah sat there contemplating the decision he has to make. This goes against everything the Targaryen sisters represent, killing as a sort of entertainment. However, Jorah needed to win in order to give Tyrion to Alysanne. The Lannister was the key to his forgiveness. He knew he was a dead man when contracting Greyscale. If he were to die, let him die being pardon by the woman he loves. Serve her until the disease is at the edge of corruption of the mind even if he doesn't see her sit on the Iron Throne.

"Valar morghulis," Yezzan praised.

"Valar dohaeris," the men replied.

"Prepare yourselves," Yezzan ordered, clapping his hands leading the selected out.

Jorah held his sword and waited.

A few moments later he heard the fighters say, "We fight and die in your glory, O glorious queen."

This snapped Jorah out of his trance. He got up and rushed to the barred entrance. Ignoring the men who were fighting, his attention went to the royal box. There he saw Alysanne sitting next to Hizdahr zo Loraq. Alysanne watched the game, keeping a neutral face but when one pit fighter stabbed another in the neck, her composure falters in distaste. Jorah knew Alysanne isn't one for extreme violence, she doesn't take pleasure in death. He watched her stand up ready to leave, but Hizdahr stopped her. They exchange a conversation.

Jorah read her lips as she said, " I've sacrificed more than enough for your traditions."

That was all Jorah need to put an end to this game.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

_Moments earlier…_

Hizdahr and I arrived at the lower pits to watch the selection games. Based on the lesson, each small game allows the victors to compete for the Great Games. I asked Hizdahr do the men beat each other up and whoever remains standing goes in. Sadly, Hizdahr explains that even the smaller games men kill each other. I tried hard not to clench my fist and held my tongue. A deal was made that allow free men to fight in the pits. I should have made restrictions by allowing the smaller ones to be men beating each other to a pulp. Therefore, they wouldn't be wasting lives.

We enter the small pit, as Meereenese both rich, poor, and liberated were there for their entertainment. The Unsullied took their positions to secure the grounds, as did Ser Barristan. He volunteers to come since Daenerys is not one for fighting, and Missandei is taking care of Grey Worm.

"Sitting through the Great Games is more than enough," I said.

"For generations in the days leading up to the great games, it has been customary for our ruler to make the rounds of the lower pits to pay the fighters there the honor of her presence," Hizdahr explained.

We sat down on a cushioned bench. The doors opened as the Pit Master of this lower pit, Yezzan zo Gaggaz came out with his fighters. The crowd cheered and applause in the show that is to come. Yezzan saw us and rushed to the royal box.

"Your Grace," he greeted with a bow. "Your future Grace. You honor us all."

Hizdahr nodded his head out of respect.

Yezzan rushed back to the ring where twelve men were standing; he corrected their posture and whispered something in their ears. Once they were ready, Yezzan clapped his hand.

"We fight and die for your glory, O glorious Queen." The fighters praised, as they put on their helmets and secure their weapons.

"Fight!" Yezzan commanded.

And thus, I watch a show of legal murder. I am watching men fight each other as a means of entertainment, seeing men of good skills that could have been used on the battlefield instead of a blood sacrifice to the Gods of Ghis. The crowd cheered, clapping, and rooting their favorite fighter. One stood out. A talk bald, muscular man. He punched his small opponent to the ground, grabbing the man by the head forcing him to face me before stabbing the man in the neck. My eyes widen follow by a gasp. Turning my glance to Ser Barristan who frown at this. Holding myself together, I entwine my fingers forcing myself to watch the game.

Hizdahr smiled at me, though he noticed I was not enjoying this.

The bald fighter turned to his next opponent a young man. The boy got a few beaten on the giant, hitting him with his club. However, the giant took the club away and tossed the boy across the pit. The boy stood up petrified seeing the giant marching over to him. Quickly he turned to run, except the giant swung his sword striking the boy's Achilles tendon, striking him down.

"I think I've seen enough," I said standing up.

"Your Grace, it is a tradition for the queen to stay until the victor has emerged." Hizdahr stopped me.

"I've sacrificed more than enough for your traditions." I said.

"Please, finish this game, and you may go," Hizdahr insisted.

"Very well," I sighed.

Suddenly the doors opened as another fighter came out. It was impossible to indicate his origin, but I could make out he was from the western side of Essos. Yezzan tried to stop the man, but the fightback elbowed the Pit Master and charged into the ring. He went over to the giant who was crushing the young boy skull with a rock. The new challenger punched the giant in the face knocking him unconscious. He then went over to the nearest fighting pair, pulling them apart. Before the second man could respond, he was met with a punch in the chest knocking him down. The challenger turned as his third opponent attack him with the sword. The challenger blocked each attack, until an opening was made, grabbing the third opponent's arm extending it, till wrapping it around to a dislocated move.

That is when I realized the challenger was not trying to kill his opponents. No, he was attempting to immobilize them. Incapacitate them to be critically injured, but able to survive. The type of fighting I approve. I stood there watching, as the challenger confronted the fourth fighter with a ball and change. The iron ball was swinging around striking anyone in its path. The challenger dodged, taking hold of a shield that was abandoned on the ground and hit it across the fourth fighter in the face. I winced slightly, feeling that is going to hurt in the morning.

All the fighters seemed to be down until the fifth fighter wearing a helmet stood up with a mace and charge. One mistake was that he gave a battle cry giving himself away, as the challenger turned around grabbing the attacker's weapon hand blocking the attack and punched him in the torso where the diaphragm would be — postponing his breathing. The challenger forced the fighter down, yanking the helmet off the man and struck him downside the head, knocking the opponent unconscious.

The crowd clapped and cheered for the new challenger. I've seen that all of his opponents were either dead from the first half of the game or severely wounded from him. I've got to say, I was impressed. It reminded me of the Dothraki roughhousing, or settling their scores in Vaes Dothraki without killing each other. The challenger came forward, which the Unsullied draw their spears except he stopped five feet away from the royal box. That was when I saw the gold bracelet of the Dothraki, along with other apparel of clothing, the kilt, and yellow shirt.

The challenger removed his helmet revealing himself to be Ser Jorah Mormont.

I tensed feeling my stomach coiling tight, throat constricted and mouth becoming dry making it difficult to swallow. My eyes sting, as they became watery. Six months. It has been six months since I last saw this man. The man who has stolen my heart and betrayed me. The man who has been haunting me since the moment I exiled him. What is he doing here? Doesn't he know that if he ever returns to Meereen, I'll have him executed?

Jorah stood there out of breath from the fight. Weatherworn, covered in sweat, as his blue eyes stared at me. Still obtaining the same emotions as the last I saw him.

Unable to accept this I clenched my fists, "Get him out of my sight."

"Alysanne, please," Jorah panted.

Two of the guards rushed in restraining Jorah by grabbing his arms. He struggled to try to break free as they drag him away.

"I just need a moment of your time," Jorah said. "I brought you a gift!"

I raised my hand stopping them.

"It's true," another voice joined in the conversation. "He has."

All eyes were turning to a dwarf wearing pentoshi garments. He appeared to be four feet tall, stubby legs, a jutting forehead, green eyes, and dark blond hair. A dark beard covered the dwarf's face, along with a scar. I glanced at Ser Barristan who was surprised then glared at the small man.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am the gift," the dwarf answered raising his shackled hands. "It's a please to meet you, Your Grace. My name is Tyrion Lannister."

"Son of Tywin Lannister?" I asked.

Tyrion nodded.

My eyes widen. Standing before me was the son of the man who orchestrated the sacking of King's Landing. The brother of the Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister. I was overwhelmed from the game, and seeing Jorah, now Tyrion Lannister stirred so many emotions inside.

"Your Grace, it's best we take them back to the Great Pyramid," Ser Barristan advised.

"Agreed," I whispered.

The Unsullied took custody of Ser Jorah and Tyrion Lannister. I kept my back turn to them, as I made my way to the pyramid. If I stare at both men right now…I don't know what I will do.

* * *

**What do you guys think? Sorry if the fighting pit scene seems messy. Fight scenes are the hardest for me.**

**Also thank you to xXFallenSakuraXx52 for being my Beta. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	39. Chapter 39: Enemies become Friends

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 39: Enemies become Friends**

_Alysanne's POV_

I sat on the ebony bench looking down at Tyrion Lannister and Ser Jorah Mormont. The audience chamber was silent, the only sound that could be heard was breathing. The small council was called, as Daenerys and Ser Barristan stood behind me, while Missandei took the middle platform. On the bottom, the platform stood two Unsullied guards, while the two Westerosi stood on the ground.

So many emotions were thundering in me. Not only did Ser Jorah return bringing back the feelings I have for him and the pain of betrayal, but also this gift, Tyrion Lannister, the son of Tywin Lannister. The stories Viserys used to share of Tywin's deformed son was disappointing. I saw he is a short man, not some hideous beast. Either way, it doesn't take into account that this was my enemies' son. There were many options I could do to him. Make Tyrion my prisoner, torture him for information, or kill him. An eye for an eye, as his brother literally stabbed my father in the back.

"Your Grace, I want to say –" Jorah started.

"You will not speak," I silenced him, then focused on the dwarf. "How do I know you are who you say you are?"

"If only I were otherwise," the dwarf said.

"If you are Tyrion Lannister, why shouldn't I kill you to pay your family back for what it did to mine?" I asked.

"You want revenge against the Lannisters? I killed my mother Joanna Lannister on the day I was born. I killed my father Tywin Lannister with a bolt to the heart. I am the greatest Lannister killer of our time." The dwarf said.

I glanced at Ser Barristan who confirmed this man was Tyrion Lannister. Ser Barristan nodded, confirming this was indeed Tywin's son.

"So I should welcome you into my service because you murdered your own father?" I asked.

I do not hold people accountable for the death of mothers in the birthing bed. Giving birth is a high risk for every woman, no baby can be held responsible if there was a complication. My mother died on the birthing bed, and I don't hold Daenerys against her for it.

"Into your service?" Tyrion asked. "Your Grace, we have only just met. It's too soon to know if you deserve my service."

"If you'd rather return to the fighting pits, just say the word," I said, voice monotone.

Tyrion took a deep breath, "When I was a young man, I heard a story about two girls born in times of grief. The eldest, born after her father burned ten men alive on the paranoid belief, that they were conspiring to kill him. And the youngest, born during the worst storm in living memory. They had no wealth, no lands, no army, only a name and a handful of supporters, most of whom probably thought they could use that name to benefit themselves. They kept these girls alive, moving them from place to place, often hours ahead of the men who'd been sent to kill these girls. The eldest was soon married to her brother, while the youngest was eventually sold off to some warlord on the edge of the world and that appeared to be that. And then a few years later, the most well-informed person I knew told me that these girls without wealth, lands, or armies had somehow acquired all three in a very short span of time, along with three dragons. He thought they were our best last chance to build a better world. I thought you were worth meeting at the very least."

"And why are you worth meeting?" I asked. "Why should I spend my time listening to you?"

"Because you cannot build a better world on your own," Tyrion answered. "You have no one at your side who understands the land you want to rule."

"I have Ser Barristan," I reminded.

"But does he know the strengths and weaknesses of the houses that will either join or oppose you," Tyrion counter.

"We will have a very large army and very large dragons," Daenerys challenged.

"Killing and politics aren't always the same thing," Tyrion said. "When I served as Hand of the King, I did quite well with the latter considering the king in question preferred torturing animals to leading his people. I could do an even better job advising a ruler worth the name. If that is indeed what you are, Your Grace."

"So you want to advise me?" I asked.

This caught Tyrion off guard.

"Very well. What would you have me do with him?" I said, finally looking at Jorah. "I swore I will have him executed if he ever returned."

"I know," Tyrion said, walking up the steps.

The two Unsullied drew their spears, but I stopped them. They went back to attention. Tyrion nodded in approval as he stepped on the lower platform. Meanwhile, Jorah stood there, hands together, nervous as his eyes water. He knows that his life hangs in the balance.

"Why should the people trust a queen who can't keep her promises?" I asked.

"Whoever Ser Jorah was when he started informing on you, he is no longer that man. I can't remember ever seeing a sane man as devoted to anything as he is to serve you. He claims he would kill for you and die for you and nothing I ever witnessed gives me a reason to doubt him." Tyrion answered.

Jorah stared at me with hope.

"And yet he did betray you," Tyrion added, catching Jorah off guard. "Did he have an opportunity to confess his betrayal?"

My throat clenched feeling the emotions stirring as I forced out the words, "Yes. Many opportunities."

"And did he?" Tyrion asked.

"He tried once, but only talked about his annulment." I answered. "It wasn't until he forced to do so."

Jorah bowed his head.

"He worships you. He is in love with you, I think. But he did not trust you with the truth. An unpleasant truth to be sure, but one of great significance to you." Tyrion noted.

Jorah looked up as the water of his tears, yet they did not fall. He knew of his mistakes. He knew how vital Rhaego was for Daenerys and I. Not because he was the true heir to the Iron Throne. No, Rhaego was our blood. Along with Drogo's death, our Dothraki family destroyed.

"He did not trust that you would be wise enough to forgive him," Tyrion continued.

"So I should have him executed?" I asked.

"A ruler who kills those devoted to her is not a ruler who inspires devotion," Tyrion answered. "And you're going to need to inspire devotion, a lot of it if you're ever going to rule across the Narrow Sea. But you cannot have him by your side when you do."

I felt my heart shatter, yet kept a neutral face even though my eyes sting from tears. I stared at my former lover one last time. I am seeing that he regretted his choices of betraying my family. Deep down I thought we could have something in the future. But now, I am promised to another. It would torture us both if he stayed.

"Remove Ser Jorah from the city. Provide him enough provisions that he can carry." I managed to order.

Jorah eyes widen, silently pleading me through his blue eyes. The Unsullied from the entrance came forward to escort him out. Not having a choice, Jorah turned around and left the Audience Hall. I sat there watching what could have been departed. Once he was gone, I excused myself and told Daenerys to give Tyrion a room to rest and freshen up.

I left the chamber and may do to my private quarters. Once inside, I closed the door, locking it, before falling into my bed silently crying the pain in my chest.

_Why? Why did he have to come back?_ I thought.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah was escorted outside the city when the Unsullied handed him a small satchel with food, a canteen of water, and some coins. He looked over his shoulder seeing four Unsullied securing the door. He glanced at the wall, seeing the Harpy Statues face destroyed. A sigh escaped his lip when he felt the stretching in his left forearm. Carefully rolling up his sleeve, he saw that the greyscale had spread. It was still small to conceal and prevent exposure. However, it reminded him that he was running out of time.

Something was wrong, and his instincts told him so. Just seeing how frail Alysanne was infected by this. Whatever was causing her stress. He knew he couldn't just leave. Not until he knows she is safe. The only way to do that was going back to the lower pits. On the way, he gathers some information in what has happened over the city — learning that a bunch of insurgences who goes by the name Sons of the Harpy has been terrorizing the city the past few months. Jorah also learned about the previous council member for the freemen betrayed Alysanne by attempting to kill a Harpy prisoner, the trials, Daenerys impulsive attempt to frighten the Masters, and Alysanne being burned by Rhaegal but held no mark. Another thing he learned was that when Alysanne agreed to marry Hizdahr zo Loraq did the Sons of the Harpy's stop terrorizing the city.

It could be a coincidence, or the Hizdahr could have a part in it. Either way, the Queen is in danger, and he will not see her harmed. By dusk, he arrived at the lower pits where Yezzan zo Gaggaz reigned. The slave trader was watching two of his fighters' train. Yezzan whistled for the two to stop.

Jorah came over tossing the gold honor back at Yezzan. The Slave Trader caught it, confused why Jorah was here.

"You said whoever wins will fight at the Great Pit in front of the queen," Jorah said. "I won."

"You struck me," Yezzan growled.

"Have me flogged if it makes you happy," Jorah offered. "But I'm the best you've got. If I win at the Great Pit how much can you sell me for?"

Yezzan stared at him as if the Westerosi was mad, "You're a free man. You could have gone anywhere. Why did you come back?"

He stepped forward, "Let me fight for her and I belong to you."

Blood of his blood, Jorah will fight, kill and die for her.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

The following day around noon I officially meet Tyrion in my study. We sat by a table with some wine and food to snack on. After yesterday it seems appropriate, we don't see each other. Since Lord Tyrion must be exhausted from his journey and I emotionally exhausted. Although, a part of me wants to kill him to get even at the Lannisters. However, what is the point since the man I would want to hurt is already dead. Thanks to his son. So, the best thing I can do is have a small lion in my service, but I need to be careful. Tyrion can also be a spy for the Lannisters. Using his traffic tale to woo information.

"So have you decided yet?" I asked. "Whether I'm worthy of your service?"

"Have you decided yet whether you're going to have me killed?" Tyrion countered as he finished pouring his wine.

"It's probably my safest option," I answered.

He grabbed his glass and leaned against the chair, "I can see why you would think so. It's what your father would have done."

I scowled at him, "And what would your father have done?"

He took a large sip of wine, "My father, who publicly sentenced me to death? I'd say his thoughts on having me killed were abundantly clear."

"Is that why you killed him?" I asked.

"Someday, if you decide not to execute me, I'll tell you all about why I killed my father. And on that day, should it ever come, we'll need more wine than this." He answered, taking another sip.

Seems we have something in common when it comes to murdering family. Since Daenerys and I allowed Khal Drogo to kill Viserys. Along with my attempted murder during the travels through the grasslands after he raped me. In the end, we allowed Viserys to die to stop our suffering. The Madness killed Viserys, one he inherited from Father as a consequence to inbreeding.

I grabbed my chalice taking a small sip. "I know what my father was. What he did. I know how the Mad King earned his name."

Tyrion sighed, "So, here we sit. Two terrible children of two terrible fathers."

"I'm terrible?" I asked.

"I've heard stories," he said.

"Really, tell me one?" I challenged.

"You sacked Astapor killing all the Masters," He started.

"And did you know the Good Masters were stealing boys from their mothers at age five, castrating them, and kill babies to become Unsullied?" I asked.

"No," he answered.

"So, am I terrible to let the Unsullied to receive justice by only killing the Good Masters who were part of the practice and sparing their sons, women, and children?"

"Apparently not."

"You can tell me stories that you heard in Westeros, and I will give you a clear explanation. I will admit, I acted on impulse in Astapor. But Yunkai and Meereen I used my advisors in the siege."

Tyrion only nodded.

"Now, why did you travel to the far side of the world to meet someone terrible?" I asked.

"To see if you were the right kind of terrible." He answered.

"Which kind is that?"

"The kind that prevents your people from being even more so."

I sighed, "Well, I did reopen the fighting pits. Under my rule, murder will once again become entertainment."

"Yes, that was wise." Tyrion agreed. "And you agreed to marry someone you loathe for the greater good. Very impressive. My own sister married someone she loathed as well, though not by choice and certainly not for the greater good, gods forbid. She ended up having him killed."

"I don't loathe Hizdahr zo Loraq. I respect him." I assured.

"That's good to hear," he said, taking another sip of wine. "It's not impossible that Varys was right about you after all."

"Varys? King Robert's spymaster? The man who once served my father?" I asked, leaning back in the chair.

"Yes, he's the one who convinced me to come find you," Tyrion answered. "He was my traveling companion before Ser Jorah seized that role for himself."

"Jorah sent my secrets to Varys," I reminded. "For twenty years the Spider oversaw the campaign to find and kill my siblings and me."

"He did what he had to do to survive. He did a lot of other things as well, things he didn't have to do." He defended. "I suspect he's the main reason you weren't slaughtered in your bed."

"Do you trust him?" I asked.

"Yes, oddly. He may be the only person in the world I trust. Except for my brother. "he answered, followed by another sip.

I scowled slightly, "The brother who killed my father?"

"That's the one," he said, refilling his cup.

"Perhaps I will have you killed after all," I said, to see his reaction. I was testing him.

"Your queenly prerogative." He countered. "I had given up on life until Varys convinced me you might be worth living for. If you chop off my head, well, my final days were interesting."

He took another sip of wine.

It appears to me that I was staring at a broken man. Something else happened when he murdered his father. I get a cynic behavior from him, so he does not fear the gods in committing patricide. Analyzing his green eyes, I saw the expression I see every day in the mirror. Heartbreak. Either Tywin Lannister killed somebody he loved, or that person broke his heart before he escaped King's Landing. I know I need to be careful with him, not sure if he still serves his House or not. The best way to sure is by testing him.

"I'm not going to kill you," I declared.

"No? Banish me?" he asked.

"No," I answered.

"So if I'm not going to be murdered and I'm not going to be banished –"

"You're going to advise me," I finished, sitting up straight. He gave a toasting gesture about to take a sip, except I took the chalice. "While you can still speak in complete sentences."

Tyrion bit his finger thinking, "Advise you on what?"

"How to get what I want," I said.

"The Iron Throne. Perhaps you should try wanting something else." He suggested.

"The Iron Throne is nothing but a chair," I said.

This caught Tyrion off guard. "There's more to the world than Westeros after all. How many hundreds of thousands of lives have you changed for the better here? Perhaps this is where you belong, where you can do the most good."

"I fought so that no child born into Slaver's Bay would ever know what it meant to be bought or sold. So that a woman can experience the pleasure of intimacy by her own accord. Or a man to work and receive payment for his service and not a whip in the back." I said, staring into his eyes. "I will continue that right here and beyond. But this is not my home."

"When you get back to your home, who supports you?" he asked.

"The common people," I answered. "And selected Houses."

He gave me a skeptical look, "Let's be generous and assume that's going to happen. Here in Slaver's Bay, you had the support of the common people and only the common people. What was that like? Ruling without the rich? House Targaryen is gone. Only your sister shares your blood is alive to support you. The Starks are gone as well. Our two terrible fathers saw to that. The remaining members of House Lannister will never back you, not ever. Stannis Baratheon won't back you, either. His entire claim to the throne rests on the illegitimacy of yours. That leaves the Tyrells. Not impossible, not enough."

"There is the Velaryons," I reminded.

"Monterys Velaryon is ten years old," Tyrion reminded.

"House Celtigar," I added.

"Lord Ardiran Celtigar is known for his avarice and wealth, but he is a sour old man," Tyrion said. "Velaryon and Celtigar maybe Valyrian descendants, but it's not enough."

"And my distant cousins, the Martells," I finished my list.

Tyrion paused thinking about it, "They may be useful since they hate the Lannisters. Although, might be difficult with Prince Oberyn dead and Prince Doran has gout."

"How is Prince Oberyn dead?" I asked.

"By being my champion for a trial by combat," He said. "His head crushed by the Mountain. Ser Gregor Clegane."

"The abomination that slaughtered my sister-in-law and her children," I sneered.

Tyrion nodded, a sadness in his eye feeling the guilt his trial did to Prince Oberyn.

Taking a deep breath, I looked at him seriously, "Winter is coming, Lord Tyrion. A blizzard that brings a long night of survival. If you know what I know, you would agree that the Iron Throne means nothing. My home is in great peril, and while the Great Houses fights to be on top, I'm fighting for the people who don't have a chance of survival. You look at me and see Madness, but only five out of the nineteen kings grew mad in my bloodline."

"So, you don't want to stop the wheel?" Tyrion asked.

"Aegon the Conqueror created the wheel, destroying it does nothing but create chaos. Fire and Blood, those are his mottos. I interpret it as Live and Die. A choice everyone makes."

"And what do you want?"

"What I want, I can never have."

"Everyone wants something."

I stared into his eyes, "What I want is to redeem House Targaryen's name."

Tyrion arched a brow. An ambitious plan, especially with the circumstances I am facing by marrying a Ghiscari. My destiny that Visenya foretold will never be the same. But I will be damn to die in the Mad King's legacy.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	40. Chapter 40: The Dance of Dragons

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 40: The Dance of Dragons**

_Alysanne's POV_

It has been a week since the incident at the Lower Fighting Pits. There have been no sightings of Ser Jorah, indicating the knight was out of the city. Tyrion has become a member of the Small Council, though doesn't have a position or title since I need to see how capable he was. Especially since he was once Hand of the King for Joffrey Baratheon. Grey Worm was still in recovery, as the wounds he received were deeper than expected and Ser Barristan and Daario were making arrangements for security for the Great Games.

They were talking about how many Unsullied should be on guard, where to put them, and who should be sitting in the royal box. So far, the obvious one is Daenerys, Hizdahr, Missandei, Tyrion, Ser Barristan and Daario. A few council members will be attending as well to show signs of peace. However, the next discussion came up, the Wedding. The Great Games last for three days, after that will be the wedding. One that is in public until entering the Temple of the Graces. It was a tradition for the patriarch of a family to give the bride away. Sadly, there are no living males in House Targaryen. Therefore, I asked Ser Barristan to be the one to give me away. The older knight was baffled, nevertheless felt honor. Making a remark, he better start polishing his armor.

It made me chuckle, though I still felt dread in this match. I know this marriage is supposed to unite the Meereenese and Freemen together. But it comes at a price along with breaking my promise to marry out of love. Especially when my heart once belongs to another only to be wounded. In the end, a ruler never gets love and happiness.

As the days passed, the fertility ritual happened. I did not enjoy the fertility ritual. As Hizdahr sisters examined me like a broodmare while three Graces sang the hymns. The worse was seeing the bedsheets that were collected during my flowering season. As six nights of bedsheets were stain with blood. This pleased the Ghiscari women confirming I was still fertile. Although, little did they know conception was difficult for me. A probable cause of inbreeding.

It saddens me for the dream of the young boy with fair hair and indigo eyes vanished. The dreams of Braavos being nothing but a distant memory. Although I do not see the boy's father, I have a feeling he made us happy.

Sighing, I sat by the vanity while Daenerys brushed my hair, manipulating it into braids and forming it to a bun before adding the jewels and golden chains. Afterward, I got dressed putting on my new gown. It was purple, almost the shade as my eyes. It was sleeveless, with a fitted bodice and a plunging neckline. The skirt flowed beneath the golden scalemail belt at the waistline. The scalemail added onto the shoulders giving the illusions of sleeves and draping down my back were a cape clung to it.

"You look like a queen," Daenerys complimented.

"I don't feel like one," I sighed.

I stared at Daenerys as she wore her white gown with a cape. Although she wore pants underneath and boots. Around her neck was a silver dragon necklace, and she wore the ring I got her. Her hair down with a few braids to keep out of her face. I smiled softly at her, seeing the potential ruler of Westeros.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," I called out.

Ser Barristan entered, wearing his new armor that was suitable for the climate, "You ladies look lovely."

"And don't you look dashing," I said, which made the older knight blush.

"It is time," Barristan informed.

We sighed, though I stopped walking over to the bed collecting my sword and handed it to Ser Barristan. "Can you hold this for me?"

Ser Barristan nodded, knowing it's better to be prepared for the unknown than letting our guard down. With one more deep breath, we left the Great Pyramid for the Great Pit of Daznak. If only this were a jousting tournament and melee.

.**o0o**.

The Great Pit of Daznak is the biggest and most extravagate of the fighting pits in Meereen. The entrance is the Gate of Fate, where an archway is formed by two bronze warriors, one wielding an ax and the other a sword, attacking each other in mortal combat. Beneath the gates were the names of fallen fighters. Above the two warriors stood the Grace of Ghis, the Harpy standing tall as her wings were spread welcoming patrons to her worship. Once you enter the Great Pit, you find yourself in a three-tier filled to the brim for the audience. As the center was the pit covered in the sand where blood and tears soaked each grain, although it appeared gold as the sun.

All around were Targaryen Banners and Unsullied on guard. Everywhere you look you see people from different classes, from the liberated slaves up to the masters. Cheering and socializing, forgetting that there was slavery. Hizdahr once told me that before I arrived, the sitting arrangements were of rank, the Great Master sat in the bottom tier, the Meereenese sat in the middle tier, and the slaves and poor sat in the top tier. Now, it is first come, first serve.

In the Royal Box, four curcule seats were presented. I sat on the one on the right, as Daenerys sat next to me. The seat next to me was empty for Hizdahr, and the one before is where Tyrion sat. Ser Barristan and Daario stood behind us, while Missandei had a seat by the beam. Members of the Free Meereenese council sat behind us.

A slight show was being performed in preparation for the gladiators. Several men riding horses dance around one another, maneuvering banners to perform the fabrics in a swirling pool of colors. It was peaceful, one I think would be suitable for entertainment than a blood bath.

Hizdahr arrived wearing his golden robes. He took his seat next to me.

"Where have you been?" Daenerys asked.

"Just making sure everything is in order," Hizdahr answered. "Ensuring that all the fighters are free men."

"And are they?" I asked.

"Yes, Your Grace," he answered.

"Good," I murmured.

The horses' neighs as the gates open signifying the games are about to begin. As the performance left the pit, the Daznak Pit Master from the meeting a few weeks ago came out. The crowd cheered, as the Daznak Master took center praising from the top of his lungs for all could hear.

"_Free Citizens of Meereen! By the blessing of the Graces, and her majesty the Queen, welcome to the Great Games!"_

The crowd cheered, standing up clapping their hands. Two men came out. One was average size carrying a short sword, a gladius, and shield, while his opponent was a massive muscular man wielding a khanda, a double-edged sword with a curved tip.

"_My Queen, our first contest. Who will triumph: the strong, or the quick?"_ the Daznak master announced.

The Quick stepped forward, "_I die and fight for your glory, oh glorious Queen."_

The Strong stepped forward, _"I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious Queen."_

The Daznak Master left the pit as the two men stood there waiting. All eyes were on me. Everyone was waiting. I looked at Hizdahr wondering what I need to do.

"They're waiting for you," Hizdahr whispered. "Clap your hands."

I nodded lifting my hands and looked at the two gladiators. Doing a silent prayer, begging the Mother's mercy as I sent these men to their deaths, and clapped. The clap echoed throughout, creating a chain reaction as the crowd stood and cheered for the match. The two men fought, as the strong swung about while the quick dodged each blow. He rolled and jump, using his shield when the Strong blade came to close.

"That one, the smaller man," Daario said, leaning in between Daenerys and I. "No question about it, that's where you should put your money."

"The smaller man it is," Hizdahr said.

"I'm not putting my money anywhere," I said.

"Kings and queens never bet on the games," Hizdahr assured, glancing at Daario. "Perhaps you should go find someone who does."

Daario moved over until he was between Hizdahr and me, "People used to bet against me when I fought in the pits. He would have bet against me. Common novice mistake."

"I've spent much of my life in this arena. And in my experience, large men do triumph over smaller men far more often than not." Hizdahr said.

"Has your experience ever involved any actual fighting?" I asked. "You yourself? Have you ever tried to kill another man who was trying to kill you?"

Ser Barristan snorted knowing there is a difference between fighting and watching. Hizdahr knew I had a point, as the thought lingers in his head.

"Have you, Your Grace?" he asked.

"The Undying Ones," I answered, then watch the duel. "But you should never judge a warrior based off height. It is skills and experience that counts."

"Whenever I got into the pit against a beast like that one, the crowd saw me, all skin and bone back then, then they saw a pile of angry muscles ready to murder me," Daario said, pulling out his stiletto. Starling Hizdahr, "They couldn't get their money out fast enough. But the pile of angry muscles never had any muscles here," as he aimed the blade to his own jaw, then twirled it, so it was against Hizdahr jugular. "Or…here."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing Daario's hand forcing it away from my intended. I need Hizdahr alive, and not traumatized.

"And the big men were always to slow to stop my dagger from going where their muscles weren't." Daario continued. "Yes, whenever I saw a beast like that one standing across from me making his beast faces, I knew I could rest easy."

Unfortunately, the Quick stood up after rolling away, unable to avoid decapitation by the Strong. The head threw off, as the body stood there for a moment until dropping on the ground. I took a deep breath, biting back my tongue. The crowd cheered for the Strong. Daario's lofty smug look drop while Hizdahr grinned. If there were a bet, a few gold honors would have been passed.

"You don't approve?" Hizdahr asked Tyrion, who has been quiet since arriving at the pit.

"There's always been more than enough death in the world for my taste," Tyrion answered. "I can do without it in my leisure time."

True, the last entertainment by mortal combat for Lord Tyrion was his Trial by Combat. He told me what happen, how Prince Oberyn almost defeated the Mountain. But the Red Viper grew cocky, demanding the Mountain to confess in who gave the order of murdering Elia Martell. Everyone knew it was Tywin Lannister; however, Prince Oberyn wanted the Mountain to confess. In the end, the Red Viper had his head crushed and the Mountain slowly dying by the poison received from the inflicted cuts. Apparently, Prince Oberyn laced his spear with poison. It is not sure if Ser Gregor Clegane is still alive or not.

"Fair enough. Yet it's an unpleasant question, but what great thing has ever been accomplished without killing or cruelty?" Hizdahr asked.

"It's easy to confuse what is with what ought to be, especially when what it has worked out in your favor," Tyrion replied.

"I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about the necessary conditions for greatness," Hizdahr said.

"That is greatness?" Daenerys asked appalled.

As the crew came in to remove the body, pouring fresh sand over the pool of blood. Along with lifting the decapitated head proudly, which the audience cheered.

"That is a vital part of the Great city of Meereen, which existed long before you or I and will remain standing long after we have returned to the dirt," Hizdahr explained.

"My father would have liked you," Tyrion muttered.

The next game began as six men, and the Daznak master came out. Hizdahr explained it was a tradition to see who the best fighters were based on their origins around the world. Over a quick glance, I can see the newest Meereenese champion, a Dothraki screamer, a Norvoshi, a Water Dancer, A Summer Islander, and a Sellsword based on his dark armor.

_"We ask again! Who will triumph!"_ The Daznak Master asked.

"One day your great city will return to the dirt as well," Daenerys promised to Hizdahr.

I gave her a warning look.

"At your command?" Hizdahr asked.

"If need be," Daenerys answered.

"Enough you too," I warned.

The crowd cheered as the Meereense Champion step forward giving his declaration.

"And how many people will die to make this happen?" Hizdahr asked.

"If it comes to that, they will have died for a good reason," Daenerys answered.

"Those men think they're dying for a good reason," Hizdahr gestured.

"Someone else's reason," Daenerys clarified.

"So your reasons are true, and theirs are false? They don't know their own minds, but you do?" Hizdahr challenged.

"Well said. You're an eloquent man." Tyrion said, interrupting the debate. "Doesn't mean you're wrong. In my experience, eloquent men are right every bit as often as imbeciles."

This made the two quiet.

"Well said," I murmured, finishing the conversation.

_"Or a Westerosi knight!"_

_Wait? What?_ I thought, did I hear correctly.

_"I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious queen," _the Westerosi knight declared.

I stared at the pit seeing Ser Jorah standing there along with the other gladiators. I felt all the warmth leaving my body, feeling it tighten, seeing him standing there with much determination. No, no, no, he can't do this. I banished him! How is he back in Meereen? Our eyes locked, unable to break the connection as we could see the pain both of us felt. I tried to think of a way to get him out, however, once a free man signs up for the fighting pits and enters the ring, he cannot forfeit.

Hizdahr took my hand, "Your Grace –"

"Shut your mouth," Daario silence him.

Having to keep my word and promise, I raised my hands together. As if a demon grabbed my wrist and forced me to clap. The crowd cheered, while Jorah gave a nod accepting the challenge. Was this his revenge to torment me for exiling him? Knowing he was the one who betrayed Daenerys and me.

"Alysanne," Daenerys whispered as she took my hand.

I squeezed it tightly, unaware that my grip was hurting her. It was like my body fell into a cationic state, watching the battle between Ser Jorah and five gladiators around the world. The Champion of Meereen took on against the Norvoshi, the Dothraki fought against the Water Dancer, while Jorah battle against the Summer Islander who held a halberd. My eyes focused on Jorah, the Daznak pit falling silent in my ears as the only thing I heard was my heart racing.

The Islander charged at Jorah, swinging the halberd. Jorah ducked, spinning around as his sword struck the handle of the halberd. Jorah threw another strike, which was blocked. The Islander maneuvering the handle, sliding the sword away, leaving the knight open, where the man struck him on the blunt hand of the handle in the stomach, before getting his opponent in the face. The impact stunned Jorah spitting up blood as he fell to the ground.

_Get up,_ I silently begged.

The Islander swung the ax down, yet Jorah managed to block with his sword then kicked the man in the leg. This knocked the Islander down. Jorah quickly stood thrusting his sword down to impale the Islander in the leg, only to miss. As the islander spun around, and swatted sword and tripped Jorah. It happened so fast, for a moment, thinking Jorah was done for until a dagger appeared out of nowhere slashing the Islander's arm causing the warrior to lose his grip of his weapon. The Islander threw punches, grabbing Jorah around the neck while the other his wrist that held the dagger. The two struggled, both trying to get the blade. Jorah managed to move his leg around and kick the Islander in the shin, knocking him down. Not sparing a moment, took the dagger and impaled it into the Islander's chest killing him.

Jorah looked up panting, determination written on his face. I gulped, before taking a deep breath. Looking away, to notice the Dothraki screamer was already dead and the Champion of Meereen was still fighting the Norvoshi. Knowing I have to watch, I look up seeing Jorah's next opponent was the Water Dancer. The Braavosi was considerate and allowed Jorah to pick up the sword. Getting a better look, Jorah wore armor; however, he wasn't wearing chainmail or a gambeson underneath leaving his arms and legs exposed. This was not good, for Water Dancing goes for areas where veins and arteries resign. Meanwhile, the Braavosi wore no armor, other than a leather vest. So, Jorah may have the advantage; however, this is speed against endurance.

The Water Dancer did a few tricks before Jorah came in for the strike, the rapier blocking the broadsword. Suddenly, Jorah stumbled back holding his cheek as it bled. I gasped for it happened so fast. As this was happening, the Champion of Meereen finished the Norvoshi fighter. He wandered around, waiting for his next opponent. Jorah strikes again at the Braavosi, getting the rapier that forced the man down, except being quick, slashed at Jorah's leg, luckily the thin blade didn't get through the boot. The Braavosi rolled backward, just as Jorah made another attack, only to jump up and used the pommel to punch the knight underneath the breastplate. Jorah stepped back rubbing his side.

The crowd was cheering in their excitement. Wanting to see their champion to go against a westerner. The question being will it be the Braavosi or the Westerosi. Their blades clashed, over and over, blocking each other's attack. It wasn't until the Water Dancer slashed Jorah's arm and kicked him in the knee. The knight fell to the ground losing his sword. Jorah rolled to his back, as the rapier was aimed to his chest. Both men looked at me.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stop the game. Once it starts it ends with the last gladiator standing. My heart was accelerating as if it was going to thrust out of my chest. My breathing shallow, almost non-existing, silently screaming to the gods to spare Jorah.

"You can end this," Tyrion desperately advised.

"She cannot," Hizdahr corrected.

"You can," Tyrion insisted.

_Please, get up!_ I silently begged.

The crowd cheered antagonizing the Water Dancer to finish Jorah off. The knight looked up to accept his death, until out of nowhere a spear was plunged through the Braavosi from behind. The Champion of Meereen made the decision, yanking his spear back and walked away to allow Jorah to stand up and collect his sword.

_"I've been by your side longer than any of them, Alysanne. Let me stand for you today as well."_ A memory Jorah said when we arrived in Meereen during the challenge.

_"You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, trusted confidant, and my dearest friend. I will not gamble with your life."_ Was my response on that day.

Both gladiators gave the nod out of respect before they started to duel. The Champion of Meereen strikes first, by spinning his spear. Jorah jumped back, dodging it. The spear came forward over and over again, which Jorah block. The Champion made an overhead attack, which Jorah ducked and lunged forward. It wasn't long as Jorah grabbed hold of the spear keeping them pinned while attempting a cut his opponent's arm where it was vulnerable. The champion did a headbutt knocking Jorah down, before lunging forward to stab him. Jorah grabbed the handle near the spear tip, mustering all of his strength to prevent the steel from penetrating him.

I prayed to the Warrior to give Jorah strength.

The knight kicked the champion in the leg causing him to stumble back. Immediately up, Jorah glared at the champion, walking around like a bear ready to strike. Just as the Champion charged forward, Jorah dropped to the ground doing a summersault and stabbed the Meereenese in the chest killing him.

The crowd booed, crying out their protest since they were hoping for the Champion of Meereen to win the Battle of Warriors. Not a Westerosi knight. I sighed, taking a deep breath letting go of Daenerys's hand. Once I caught my bearings, I stared at him standing there staring at me. Suddenly his eyes narrowed, as he grabbed the spear and threw it at the Royal Box. Ser Barristan covered me while Daario pushed Daenerys down. The spear flew between Hizdahr and I, impaling someone.

Turning around, there was a Son of a Harpy. A golden mask and bronze dagger in hand. My eyes widen, looking up to see more Sons of the Harpy's emerging from the crowd. They were chanting in Old Ghiscari. I glanced over to Jorah who was still in the pit seeing the fear in his eyes, as all around the Daznak pit where more Harpies in the many levels of the bleachers. Chaos ensued as people started to run for their lives as the Harpies began to attack innocent people.

How was this possible? The Unsullied and guards checked every back to make sure there was no Harpy mask or weapon in the stands. Unless…someone in the Pit has arranged for this attack.

"Protect the girls!" Ser Barristan ordered.

The Unsullied who were in the Royal Box created a perimeter protecting Daenerys and I. The Unsullied in the stands tried to rush in to stop the slaughter, however, with everyone running, it made things difficult to reach each Harpy. Ser Barristan and Daario drew their weapons, attacking those who dare approach us. In the stands, the Harpies tried to kill the Unsullied; however, they were met with spears or short swords. Only a few of my soldiers falling to the ground, yet more innocent people were being killed.

"Your Grace! Your Grace!" Hizdahr yelled coming over. "Come with me. I know a way out. I know a way—"

A Harpy came up behind Hizdahr and stabbed him in the chest. I gasped, in horror since Hizdahr was a leader of an ancient family. The next king of Meereen. The word _traitor_ in Valyrian could be heard, as more Harpies rushed in stabbing Hizdahr repeatedly. Daario rushed in but was too late, as he blocked another attack. Ser Barristan moved over to kill the assassins getting one when out of nowhere came Jorah taking care of the other two. All three men were bewildered by all this, until looking at me.

"We need to get out," I manage to say.

Jorah nodded, as he came over offering me a hand. I stared at it and into his eyes. He came back for me, twice, knowing the consequences. And still, he came to protect me. Knowing he will always be there; I took his hand. Jorah nodded, leading the way down as he jumped off the royal box, and helped me down. He kept watch as Daario took Daenerys's hand, gently helping her down while I grabbed her waist. Soon Ser Barristan and Daario jumped down, as did the Unsullied.

Once we were in the pit, Jorah grabbed my arm leading to the gate, "This way!"

We ran inside the barracks where there was an entrance. The moment we reached the door, it was slammed shut. Jorah rushed over trying to break the latch when a Harpy appeared out of nowhere. Daario pulled me back, about to block, except Jorah grabbed the Harpy and thrust his sword into the enemy stomach.

"The other side!" Daario yelled. "Follow me."

Daario leads the way out, as I took Daenerys's hand as we ran with Jorah and Ser Barristan on our side. The Unsullied moved around us. Tyrion and Missandei soon joined us.

"Protect your Queen and Princess!" Ser Barristan ordered.

We continue to run until all the gates open as a swarm of Harpies drowned the pit surrounding us. All around were Sons of the Harpy. The Unsullied who were in the stands rushed down surrounding them. However, there was more of them, even with my skilled soldiers, it can take only one to slide through the barricade to kill us. Ser Barristan unsheathed my sword and handed it to me.

"No matter what, protect Dany," I ordered.

One by one or those brave enough started to attack. The Unsullied in the barricade, stabbed and block with their weapons meanwhile Some managed to break through only to be met by a Westerosi knight or a Sellsword. One in a yellow barged through, going after Tyrion who held a dagger. I shoved him aside and block the attack, before slicing his arm and stab him in the chest. Another came through, yet I stab him in the stomach. The Unsullied in the outer ring tried to get closer, yet the numbers were overwhelming. This is definitely a third party doing.

Another Harpy dived at me; I blocked the attack only to fall to the ground tripping over my dress. The moment the Harpy could raise his dagger in his opposite hand, he was stabbed in the back by Jorah. Shoving the man off, he helped me up and pushed me back by another surprise attack. I glanced at Daenerys who stood there realizing there was too many of them. She took Missandei's hand and closed her eyes.

Suddenly dragon roar caught everyone's attention. Looking up and spear of fire came down, and then emerged Drogon. Not long after, Viserion appeared as the two flew in a circle. Half of the Harpies ran away, while the other half were mystified in sight of the dragons. Drogon landed in the pit, while Viserion dropped on the Royal Box. One Harpy ran away from Drogon, headed in our direction. Daario was about to attack the man, except Drogon bite him tossing the assassin across the pit, chomping him in half. Not long after, he blew fire at a group. Viserion crawled down doing the same for a group who were behind us.

They came. They sensed their Riders were in danger and came. A few brave Harpies grabbed spears and started throwing it at Drogon and Viserion. The golden dragon being smaller dodged some of the attack pouncing on the group and biting them while swinging his tail. Two spears got Drogon though, one in the shoulder and the other in his back.

"Drogon!" Daenerys cried. She ran over grabbing the spear that was in the black dragon's shoulder to try to get it out. Mustering all her strength, she yanked the spear out. Drogon turned his head and roar in her face. Daenerys remembering from the training, stood there showing dominance. Drogon finished his roar and saw she wasn't a threat. They stared at each other for a moment when another spear struck the dragon.

A harpy was about to throw a spear when Daario threw his stiletto and struck the man.

Analyzing the situation and staring at Drogon seeing he was big enough to ride for Daenerys, I rush over to her. "Go now!"

"What?" She gasped.

"Drogon is big enough to ride. Get on his back and leave!" I ordered.

"No, I'm not leaving you!" she argued.

"Damn it, Dany! Go, you are our only hope for our House!" I yelled.

Daenerys paused staring at me then pulled back with a nodded. Quickly she climbed onto Drogon's back finding her bearings. She whispered the word, _Valahd_ linking her to Drogon. On command, Drogon started running through the pit preparing for taking off. I ran out of the way and looked up seeing Drogon taking off and fly. Everyone stopped in awe or was fleeing from Viserion who continued to his attack.

I watched seeing the return of the Dragonlords or in this case the Dragonladies. As Daenerys managed to escape from the attack. At least I know my sweet sister was safe. I turned around only to be met by a pain sliding down my spine and another in my shoulder. I cried out in agony, seeing two Harpy masks around me. They yank their blades out, about to stab me again only to be killed by Jorah and Ser Barristan. I fell to the ground, feeling blood pouring rapidly from my wounds. I glanced up seeing what remains of the Sons of the Harpy's charging forward until Viserion sprung in breathing fire.

Soon everything turned black.

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah had watched Daenerys taking to the sky when all of a sudden, he heard a scream. He turned around seeing that two harpies had snuck up behind Alysanne and stabbed her. Immediately he saw red, rushing in along with Ser Barristan. More foolish Harpies who took the moment of opportunity in the distraction attack only to be met with dragon fire by Viserion. It happened so fast, as men were being burned alive trying to extinguish the flames.

When he turned to Alysanne, he found Viserion hunching over her. Licking her wounds trying to get her to stand up. However, seeing the blood pooling around her and her lack of response made him fear the worse. He rushed over, except Viserion roared at him. Jorah stepped back evaluating the situation. Alysanne needed to get to a healer or physician fast, or she will bleed to death.

Then he recalled a trick he learned when Viserion was in his toddler stage. When Alysanne tried to get the dragon to trust him in. It earned him a few bites, but it allowed Viserion to recognized his scent, understanding he was a friend. Slowly, Jorah dropped his sword in front of Viserion showing the beast he was not a threat. Next reached his right arm out and one step at a time as came closer. Viserion growled so Jorah stopped.

"She needs help," Jorah whispered. "Let me help her."

Viserion growled moving closer till coming up to his hand. The dragon's nostrils flared, sniffing his scent. Jorah remained still, remaining calm to show he was not a threat. When Viserion gave a bob of the head, he stepped back presenting Alysanne. Jorah cautiously came over to the queen and check her vitals. A hand on her face, he found her still breathing. Sighing in relief, until seeing the pool of blood getting bigger. Cursing, he picked up Alysanne in his arms and looked at the others.

"We need to get her to a healer quickly!" Jorah ordered.

Daario and Ser Barristan nodded, as they all rushed to get Alysanne out of the pit and somewhere safe. Viserion took to the sky watching from the above. Jorah looked down at Alysanne seeing her fighting for her life.

"Hold on, Alysanne," Jorah pleaded. "Don't you dare die on me."

* * *

**So, what do you all think? Will Alysanne survive?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	41. Chapter 41: The Aftermath

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 41: The Aftermath**

It has been a few days since the attack of the Danzak pit. The Small Council taking control of the city, as the Unsullied and Second Sons patrol the streets. The Gates sealed, and the ships were docked as investigations began with checking the papers from other cities. They were in search of anyone who has custody of a Harpy mask. A majority of the Meereenese allowed the search and seizure. However, it does not stop the rumors that Daenerys was missing and Alysanne was heavily wounded.

In the Apex of the Great Pyramid, Alysanne laid in bed on her stomach as a Blue Grace, one of the healers, has been treating the dragoness. She received two wounds, one being a deep slash across her back, and another penetrated her left shoulder that went down her upper arm. The scalemail, though made of gold and not crafted for battle has saved her life. Except, she lost a lot of blood, due to the genetics of being a product of incest. One Ser Barristan is aware of since he knew Queen Rhaella was frail that any injury she received bled longer.

A lot of guilt has been passed around in how the attack happened. Ser Barristan and Daario secured the pit, having the Unsullied check each person who entered, examining each bag, so no weapons than the ones that were the gladiators were allowed. The Older Knight declared that someone from the Danzak Pit, a Pit Master, must have smuggled the masks and weapons in, and opened the entrances that allow the Harpies to enter when the attack transpired. So, the Second Sons investigated it, finding that one Pit Master from the Lower Pits was missing, Yezzan zo Gazzag.

Currently, the Small Council was in the Audience Hall trying to figure out what to do. With Queen Alysanne in critical condition and Princess Daenerys still missing…the city was at the brink of chaos. Tyrion sat on the middle platform of the steps looked down at Daario and Jorah. Both men who loved two women, and would fight and die for them. Two sellswords, one being Tyroshi and the other a dishonorable Westerosi Knight.

"You love them, don't you?" Tyrion noted.

Both men looked at him.

"How could you not? Of course, it's hopeless for the both of you." Tyrion said. "A sellsword from the fighting pits, a disgraced knight. Neither one of you is a fit consort for a queen. But we always want the wrong woman."

"Does he always talk so much?" Daario asked Jorah.

Jorah nodded. Hearing footsteps, he looked up seeing Missandei aiding Grey Worm into the room. The Commander of the Unsullied leaned against the translator, having color in his skin though still weak, as the bandages around his torso indicated it so.

"Jorah the Andal," Grey Worm greeted.

"_Torgo Nudho_," Jorah replied back.

"He should not be here," Grey Worm said.

"No, but he is," Daario countered.

"Our queen ordered him exiled from city," Grey Worm reminded.

"Our queen would be dead if not for him," Daario informed.

_"It's true. And I would be dead if not for the…"_ Missandei paused looking at Tyrion. _"…little man."_

_"Dwarf. I believe that's the word,"_ Tyrion corrected in Valyrian. _"Apologies. My Valyrian is a bit nostril."_

_"A bit rusty (Punila),"_ Missandei corrected.

_"Punila_." Tyrion repeated, "Thank you."

Jorah rubbed his eyes and pinched the brim of his nose. Exhausted since no one is sure what to do. He rather guard Alysanne, either by her side or at the door. However, Ser Barristan banded him once the Queen was treated. As the older knight made the promise that Jorah will never be alone with her again. It pained him seeing the agony his love is going through. Also, the fact he did not protect her that caused her suffering.

"I am sorry," Grey Worm apologized. "Sorry I not there to fight for our queen."

"You missed a good scrap," Daario assured.

"None of that matters now," Jorah said, standing up, "The longer we sit here bantering, the longer Alysanne's enemies are gaining strength and Daenerys is out there in the wilderness."

"He's right," Tyrion said. "The dragon headed north. If we're going to find her, that's where we'll have to go to."

"We?" Jorah asked. "You're a Lannister. The queen intends to remove your family from power."

Tyrion stood up, "And I intend to help her do it."

"You've been here for how many days now? I fought for them for years." Jorah said.

"You betrayed them," Tyrion accused.

"Careful now," Jorah warned.

"And she exiled you. Twice, I believe," Tyrion added.

"The second time thanks to you," Jorah said.

"Don't blame me for your crimes, Mormont," Tyrion yelled.

Daario stood up standing between the two, "He's right. Our queen exiled Jorah. And he's right. Jorah saved her life. Perhaps Alysanne feels differently about him now, perhaps not. The only way we'll know is if we ask her."

"Fine, fine. I supposed he can join us. Just as long as he promises not to kill me in my sleep," Tyrion conceded.

"If I ever kill you, your eyes will be wide open," Jorah promised.

"You're not in King's Landing, Lannister," a weak female voice joined the conversation.

Everyone looked up at the top of the stairs where Alysanne entered the room leaning against Ser Barristan who was helping her stand. She was in her evening robes, bandages wrapped around her upper body, and her left arm in a sling. She was pale from the blood loss and was weak. And yet she musters up the energy to come down to talk to them instead of recovering. Ser Barristan guided Alysanne to the ebony bench to sit down in order to conserve her energy.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Once I sat on the bench, I looked down at my Small Council. I felt tired and sore; however, I will not stand by and let my council makes decisions for me. Ser Barristan already informed me about the search and seizure, to which I accept. There is somebody out there with enough money to attack the Great City of Meereen. These Sons of the Harpy's and their mercenary allies attacked everybody. Not just me and my army, but every class of Meereenese citizen. Peace was being forged, and the immediate assumption that the Sons of the Harpy were of the Great Masters and Born Free Meereenese. So, this attack is to stir up conflict between the freemen and the Meereenese.

"My Queen, I am sorry for not being there to protect you." Grey Worm apologized.

"You were injured, you are not at fault," I assured. "There is nothing to forgive."

Grey Worm nodded.

"How long has it been since Daenerys's absence?" I asked.

"Two days, Your Grace," Missandei answered.

I sighed, "She is not properly bonded with Drogon. He must have taken her somewhere where he believes she will be safe. Give her three more days, if she doesn't arrive, we'll go after her."

"Your Grace, you are in no condition to travel," Ser Barristan said.

"I must, she is my sister," I said.

"He's right," Tyrion said. "The scalemail may have prevented you from dying, but those lacerations will take weeks, maybe months to heal along with the risk of infection. Daario and I will go searching for Daenerys."

All eyes turned to Tyrion.

"Forgive me, but why would I bring you?" Daario asked.

"Pardon me?" Tyrion replied.

"Have you ever tracked animals in the wilderness?" Daario asked.

"Not precisely, but I have other skills that would be useful," Tyrion answered.

"Can you fight?" Daario continued.

"I have fought. I don't claim to be a great warrior."

"Are you good on a horse?"

"Middling."

"So mainly you talk," Daario concluded.

"And drink. I've survived so far."

"Which I respect, but you would not help me on this expedition. You could help us here in Meereen, though. The Queen is in recovery, and none of us have experience governing a city except for you two." Daario said addressing both Jorah and Tyrion.

Since Jorah used to be Lord of Bear Island, he had some experience before his exile. Although Tyrion having been Hand of the King for running a city and the Seven Kingdoms have better skills.

"You want to prove your value to the queen? Prove it right here in Meereen," Daario said.

"He's a foreign dwarf that barely speaks the language. Why would the Meereenese listen to him?" Jorah asked.

"They wouldn't," I said. "While I still recover, I know the people will listen to Grey Worm and Missandei."

"I'll come with him," Grey Worm insisted. "I'll find our princess."

Missandei placed her hand on the Unsullied shoulder, "You are not strong enough to go anywhere."

"I am," Grey Worm disagreed.

"He is." Daario agreed. "He's the toughest man with no balls I ever met."

Grey Worm gave Daario a look, one that could kill if that were possible. I would have chuckled, yet I was too exhausted to care.

"But you still can't go," Daario continued. "The people believe in you. They know you speak for the queen."

"It's true," Missandei agreed. "Only the Unsullied can keep the peace in Meereen." She looked at Grey Worm. "If you leave, half the city will consume the other half."

"And Missandei. Our queen trusts no one more than Missandei." Daario added. "Certainly not me."

I nodded in agreement. I still don't trust Daario, but right now he is proving himself as an advisor for the Small Council.

"The Queens closes confidant, the commander of the Unsullied, and a foreign dwarf with a scarred face," Daario said, then looked at me. "Good fortune, my queen. Meereen is ancient and glorious," he then leaned over to Tyrion. "Try not to ruin her."

"Let's wait three days to be sure Daenerys needs help," I reminded. "As much as you itch for adventure."

Daario nodded, "I'll get my supplies ready just in case."

I nodded. Soon all eyes were on Jorah and me, the elephant in the room. We were in a predicament since I had banished Ser Jorah twice from the city. Twice he returned, as he competed in the Great Games. Fought, killed, and willing to die for me to set a point. If he hadn't, it's most likely I would have been killed in the Danzak pit or succumbed to more wounds with a crippling effect. Even when Viserion was guarding me, the golden dragon allowed Jorah to carry me to a healer. Therefore, if Viserion is willing to give a chance, so can I.

And yet, I was still hurt by the fact that he doesn't trust me. I forgave him when he lied saying he supported the Targaryens during the first half of Robert's Rebellion before called to arms by his father. It was his way to earn Viserys trust at the time. He told me about his annulment, yet lied claiming it was Lynesse's doing with her rich paramour bidding. Then again, I thought about the lies I keep from him. Not telling anyone about my dreams of Visenya. If I told anyone that I was communicating with my ancestors, they would find me insane as my father. Not understanding the powers of the dragon's blood and Daenys the Dreamer.

"Your Grace," Jorah started. "If you want me to leave, then I shall go."

"You will not leave," I said. "I want to speak with you in private in my chambers now."

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan started.

"I'm not in the mood to argue, Ser Barristan," I told my Lord Commander.

Standing up, I managed to walk back to my chambers with Jorah right behind me. We enter my apartment, as I walked over to the table using it as support, not wanting to collapse to the floor. If I were to lay down, I probably wouldn't be able to get back up again. Once we were alone, I stared at Jorah who stood there with his hands behind his back. Weatherworn and tired, as his left arm was bandage where the Braavosi cut him, along with the cut on his left cheek.

"I banished you twice. You came back twice. And you saved my life." I said. "So I am in a predicament. Do I keep my word and execute you or do I forgive you and reinstate you as general?"

I stepped forward to take his left arm when he retracted. I was confused, as sorrow was written on his face.

"You shouldn't touch me," Jorah cautiously advised.

"Why not?" I asked.

Jorah removed the bracer he had on his left forearm and rolled up his sleeves. Thereupon his skin were patches of stiffed skin, that has cracked in resemblance of stone. My eyes widen, looking at him in shock for I have seen this infection before. Guilt consumed me, for this was my fault. If I haven't banished him the first time, he wouldn't have caught greyscale.

"How?" I whispered. "When?"

"A few weeks ago…Tyrion and I were sailing through Valyria when we were ambushed by Stone Men. When I killed one, his blood made contact with my skin." he explained.

"Is there a cure?" I asked.

"I don't know," Jorah answered, rolling down his sleeve and put the bracer back on.

"How long does it take?" I asked.

"I don't know that either," he answered, tightening the fasting. "But I've seen what happens when it goes far enough. I'll end things before that."

"This is my fault," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. All I've ever wanted was to serve you." Jorah assured, with a sad smile. "Tyrion Lannister was right. I love you. I'll always love you."

"And I love you," I sobbed.

We stood there as the tears fell. After so long we finally confess our feelings, putting aside the transgression of his betrayal. As he admitted, he gave the information before becoming my friend. It was like the gods were preventing me from having an ounce of happiness. Anyone I love being taken away from me. The moment I finally have control over my life, the gods strike me down. It was like they want me to have power and nothing else. But I have tasted ultimate power, and I want more. Not more power, but happiness and love. If I could trade my power to save his life I would, for he was a good man who made mistakes.

Now he has contracted greyscale. From my knowledge, there is no record of there being a cure in Essos. Mainly when a person catches it, it's better to put them out of their misery before the infection spreads and contaminate another. I don't know about Westeros, or the other islands if there was a cure. Usually cutting a limb off is an option, except there have been cases the disease remains. Remembering that it was only the infected tissue that is contagious, and Jorah had his sleeve and bracer covering it. Preventing the disease from making contact with others.

I walked over to him, which he stepped back, "Alysanne."

"Don't walk away from me," I commanded.

Jorah stood there looking down, keeping his left arm behind his back. I walked over until I was standing before him. Mustering all my courage, I leaned up and kissed him. This surprised Ser Jorah, yet he did not move. I will not isolate him from human touch. Not until the disease is no longer able to be contained. He soon kissed back, soft and gentle, timid as well. When we pulled back, I can see the Stranger hold in his eyes.

"If Daenerys doesn't return in three days, I will go with Daario and retrieve her," he promised.

"Jorah," I started.

"I cannot join you when you return to Westeros, but I can make sure you are not alone." He said. "The Dragon Sisters must stay together."

I bowed my head as the tears fell. He wrapped his right around me as he held me close. Our only time to be together before the inevitable. I blame myself, following too much on obligation and duty instead of letting Jorah explain six months ago. When I pulled back, I went over to the trunk retrieving his sword.

"I assume you want this back," I said.

"It is yours," Jorah said.

I shook my head, "A knight needs his sword."

Jorah nodded, as he pulled out the sword from the scabbard. "I will take the sword and you the sheath."

I raised a brow, wondering if there was some sort of innuendo to that statement. Jorah tried to give a smile, though it was forced.

The next three days came by too fast. I had Jorah by my side savoring what we have emotionally, except the medicine to numb the pain left me drowsy, I often fell asleep. When there is no sighting or word of Daenerys, Jorah kept to his promise and prepared to join Daario on the expedition to find my sister. If Drogon had taken Daenerys north, there is a chance of encountering the Lhazareen or Dothraki. Jorah knowing the Dothraki and fluent in the language can help the sellsword. So, when we kissed for the last time, I felt my heart break knowing I will never see him again.

I stood on the balcony watching the two warriors leave the Great Pyramid. As they went down the streets, Jorah looked over his shoulder, and I stared back. My eyes burning, for this time Jorah exiled himself for my safety and to prevent the spread of greyscale.

The gods are cruel, but they have their reasons.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

The Mother of Dragons glanced at the horizon of the rugged terrain. She saw a river, feeling her throat and mouth dry for not drinking the last three days. A few days ago, she tried to control Drogon, trying to guide him to the Great Pyramid so she could send help. But Drogon had other plans, as he headed north. A day and a half they sailed the sky until landing on unknown lands. The exhaustion got to her, as she fell asleep. When she woke, she found herself surrounded by the carcasses of rams and other animals. She turned around, seeing Drogon nibbling what was left of a ram.

"We have to go home," Daenerys said, walking over.

Drogon sighed, resting his head on the ground. As she grew closer, she saw holes in his leathery wings.

"Oh, my poor, sweet thing. Does it hurt?" She murmured. "We have to go home."

The black dragon yawned.

"Drogon," she said, trying to get his attention. "Can you take me back to Meereen?"

She petted his snout, "How far did you carry me?"

Drogon groaned, scooting away as he started to lick his wounds.

"Drogon, we need to return. Alysanne needs me," she pleaded.

Daenerys knew her sister was in trouble. Only, she doesn't know if Alysanne was alive or not. Her sister once more taking the risk to protect her. Always protecting her sweet sister.

Desperate, Daenerys climbed onto Drogon's back. The dragon hissed at her, slouching his back and tossed her down, before climbing on top. Shielding the princess from the world. Daenerys groaned, crawling out of the dragon's hug and stood up, brushing the dirt off her tattered dress.

She glared at him, "Well, there's no food. At the very least, you could hunt us some supper."

Unfortunately, Drogon fell asleep.

Daenerys sighed, wondering which personality the dragon inherits from her. She recalls from Viserion being overprotective like Alysanne, with a hint of humor. The rare humor the Queen had. Now staring at Drogon, she can confirm the dragon inherited her stubbornness and impulsive behavior. Traits that don't do well together.

The thirst was getting to Daenerys. She gazed at the river and decided to head down there to get a drink. It appeared to be a few miles, but the thirst was getting to her. Carefully she made her way down, hoping to find a shepherd or a fisherman at the coast to help her. She still had her dragon neckless, which was worth a lot of money. So hopefully she can find someone to escort her back to Meereen. She made it down to ground level, walking through a field when noticing a rider up ahead. After closer inspection she realized the rider was Dothraki. Three more riders appeared, before charging towards her.

Immediately though appearing natural, she took off the pearl ring that Alysanne gave her and dropped it on the ground. Leaving a trail, for she knew she was going to be captured. More riders appeared, until hearing a whooping sound as she turned around seeing a horse making way. That was when she realized she knew where she was. She was in the Dothraki Sea.

* * *

**Thus, Ends Season 5. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	42. Chapter 42: The Dragons Divided

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_Languages:_**

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

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**Chapter 42: The Dragons Divided**

I must confess, I get bored easily. Before my conquest, I could find entertainment in books, sewing, and other things a lady would do. Now that I am in recovery, it's hard to do something when I am required not to lay on my back, and my left arm being in a sling. Usually, the medicine, mainly milk of the poppy, puts me to sleep. However, my thoughts linger in the sorrows that have transpired.

So many people are dead, innocent people, thanks to the Sons of the Harpy. The Daznak pit was filled with free Meereenese citizens, those who were born free, and those liberated. Freemen, poor, rich, Master, and Great Masters being slaughter by cowards behind golden masks. I have a feeling the majority of the Meereenese had no part in supporting the Sons of the Harpy. There must be a third party. The reason why I believe this is so is that when the swarming of the Harpies entered the pit, many were not wearing Master or Meereenese robes. There were a lot of men wearing slaved clothes, including collars. Slaves would never wear the rags they wore before they were liberated. Along with that, all the collars have been destroyed. Especially from the reports of the collecting the bodies, to either get their funeral rights or burned…many were not Ghiscari origin.

Mercenaries who wear slaves clothing to stir trouble. Mercenaries who were hired to disrupt the balance between the freemen and the pure Meereenese. Yunkai comes to mind in funding these attacks, as the Wise Masters tried before in resisting my rule. There could be another suspect of it being a Free City who supports slavery. Either way, my enemies are growing, and I am vulnerable. They already have the lead by killing Hizdahr zo Loraq. At first, Daario suspected Hizdahr was the leader of the Sons of the Harpy since the rioting and ambushing stopped when we made the announcement of our engagement. But seeing three Harpies killing Hizdahr, calling him a traitor showed us differently. I don't know how the ancient family of zo Loraq is doing. Hizdahr was Miraz's only son. Miraz does have a nephew who will now be the new leader…but when a child dies before the parents…it can be heartbreaking.

Then came Jorah. The man I love was given a death sentence that no one can pardon. Greyscale. He contracted greyscale when kidnapping Tyrion to give him to me. The knight knew of my hate towards the Lannisters for what the Lions did to my family. What Tywin Lannister did in sacking King's Landing and giving the order to kill Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon. As for Jaime Lannister, he broke his oath and murdered my father. Jorah knew that and brought Tyrion to me in hopes of a pardon and be by my side again. And in doing so got infected by an incurable contagious disease. I blame myself since I banished him. If I didn't banish him, he would not be dying ever so slowly. Physically he will live a few more years as a Stone Man, but mentally his mind will subdue to that of an animal. Every time I think of it, my eyes would water and I would silently cry.

His last act of serving me is finding Daenerys and bringing her home.

It has been a week since Jorah and Daario left. My sister is out there with a dragon who is not adequately trained. She has a mark on her head by most of the Lhazareen who were not enslaved in Slaver's Bay since Drogo was collecting slaves for his campaign to sail to Westeros. As for the Dothraki…she challenged their customs when Drogo fell off his horse. One of the Dothraki Khal's killed Rakharo expressing his distaste for a woman running a Khalasar. Let alone, if she is taken by a Dothraki horde and announces she was the wife of Khal Drogo, they will take her to Vaes Dothrak to be part of the Dosh Khaleen. Or…they could enslave her. I fear the latter wondering what the Khals will do to a Khaleesi who doesn't obey to their masculine authority.

So much is happening that I need to do something. However, not in the condition that I am. I can't train, I can't read, I can't do anything other than think and sleep. And since the medicine is drowning my mind, I am unable to get Visenya's guidance.

The doors open as Ser Barristan came in with a frown. I was sitting on the bed as a Blue Grace was examining my arm. Something was not right, because when Ser Barristan frowns it means three things. One is that he doesn't approve of something, two he received terrible news, or three something bad has happened.

"What is it?" I asked, then hissed when the Blue Grace added fresh paste on my left arm.

"Your Grace, Tyrion Lannister has invited Varys into the Pyramid." Ser Barristan answered.

"The Spider?" I asked to be sure.

Ser Barristan nodded. Tyrion did mention before, that Varys was the one who convinced him to leave Pentos to come here to meet me. This was complicated since Varys is the one who spied on my siblings when we were in exile. Told Robert Baratheon our secrets. The messenger that let assassins come hunting for us, and the fuel that lead to Rhaego and Drogo's untimely deaths. Tyrion said Varys did what he did in order to survive. Stating the Eunuch is about the realm, he does not serve a house.

I tried to remember Varys when I was three. I recalled a bald man, a bit rounded, with tan skin and dark eyes. He spoke soothingly, in a riddle type way when entering Mhaegors tower, when he would talk with my Mother, whispering information in her ear. He also would smile at me, and sneak me candies, after a Septa took a sample to be sure it was not poison. Candied plums. Now I want to know why he is here.

"Small Council meeting, I want to see the Spider," I said.

"You should rest," Ser Barristan advised.

"Either we have the Small Council meeting here in my chambers or in my study. Which do you prefer the Spider to enter?" I countered.

I don't mean to sound harsh. The pain was getting to me, as the wounds were slightly inflamed as if my skin was burning. Being unable to do something while my Small Council takes control was tormenting me. It's clear I have a problem with control. Spending my life being obedient to Viserys and other wealthy families who always want something in return. The moment I feel independence and control, it's hard to submit again. When the Masters asked for concessions, I felt the chains forming around me, weighing me down. Now, I do have people that I trust…it's just…I feel restrained because of these wounds.

Once the Blue Grace was done treating me, Missandei helped me into some comfortable robes and into my study. I sat down by my desk, as Missandei stood next to me observant. Not a moment too soon, Ser Barristan and Grey Worm escorted Tyrion and Varys into the study holding an oriental box. The Master of Whisperers has aged since the last I saw him, yet his composure remains the same.

Varys gave a bow, "Queen Alysanne, have you grown marvelous since the last I saw you. I can see your Mother's beauty."

"You served my father, didn't you, Lord Varys?" I asked, ignoring the compliment.

"I did," he answered, a bit stumbled that I went straight to the point.

"And then you served the man who overthrew him," I said.

"I had a choice, Your Grace – serve Robert Baratheon or face the headman's axe."

"But you didn't serve him long. You turned against him."

Varys paused looking at me, "Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King. Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had no interest in being king."

"So, you took it upon yourself to find a better one?" I asked.

"Your Grace," Tyrion entered the conversation. "When I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a queen in the east who –"

"Before I came to power, you favored my brother," I interrupted. I have the Spy Master who is an enigma, one with the resources to find truth and spill lies. I need to be sure I have someone I can trust. I've been betrayed too many times and don't want an enemy in my council. "All your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid, and weak? Would those qualities have made for a good king in your learned opinion?"

"Until your sisters' marriage to Khal Drogo, Your Grace, I knew nothing about you girls, save your existence and that you both were said to beautiful," Varys said.

"So, you and your friends allowed me to be raped and abused, trade my sweet sister like a prized horse to the Dothraki." I accused.

"Which you girls turned to your advantage," Varys said.

"Who gave the order to kill Daenerys?" I asked.

The room grew intense. It's time to know the truth with all the assassination attempts on my family, and I went through during our exile. The years of fear, wondering if I was going to die in bed or drink something that contained poison.

"King Robert," Varys answered.

"Who hired the assassins?" I asked, standing up. "Who sent word to Essos to murder the Targaryen sisters?"

"Your Grace, I did what had to be done to—"

"To keep yourself alive," I finished, walking around the desk.

"Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant," Tyrion defended.

"Proven himself loyal? Quite the opposite," I countered, glaring at the Spider. "If he dislikes one monarch, he conspires to crown the next one. He's a Kingmaker, just like Jon Arryn. What kind of servant is that?"

"The kind the realm needs," Varys said seriously. "Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I'll use them. I wasn't born into a great house. I came from nothing. I was sold as a slave and carved up as an offering. When I was a child, I lived in alleys, gutters, abandoned houses. You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win. If you demand blind allegiance, I respect your wishes. You can behead me, or your dragons can devour me. But if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because I choose you. Because I know the people have no better chance than you."

He stared deeply into my eyes, hazel orbs telling the truth, even if his face cannot express it.

"Swear this to me, Varys," I said walking over to him, ignoring the pain until standing in front up to him. "If you ever think I'm failing the people, you won't conspire behind my back. You'll look me in the eye as you have done today, and you'll tell me how I'm failing them.

Varys nodded and looked me in the eye, "I swear it, my queen."

Knowing this man is good at manipulating people, I added one more promise, "And I swear this – if you ever betray my family or me, I'll put you to the sword myself."

Varys smiled, "I would expect nothing less from Rhaegar's sister."

I nodded then glanced at the box the Eunuch was holding.

"Ah, a gift from Magister Illyrio," Varys said. "He still hasn't forgotten about you."

"And what gift is that?" I asked.

"You have to open it and see," Varys answered.

"No, set it on the table, and you open it," I said.

Last time someone gave me a concealed gift, it contained a manticore. Varys obliged, as he set the oriental box on the desk, and lifted the lids. Grey Worm and Ser Barristan grabbed their daggers just in case anything poisonous jumps out. The Spider put his hands in and picked up the object that was inside. It was a crown. My eyes widen, for I haven't seen that crown since I was fifteen years old. When I sold it to a rich Lord? Queen Rhaella's crown. It was silver, as the intricate designs resembled scales and dragon tails woven about. At the front were three gems, as the center was a large ruby while on the sides were two small amethyst. It wasn't the royal crown Mother would wear for special occasions. No, it was the one she wore during travels or outside the Castle.

"When Illyrio Mopatis heard that you were continuing your campaign for Westeros, he went through great lengths in searching for Queen Rhaella's crown. He hopes this brings good favors when the time is right, Your Grace." Varys explained.

I came over and carefully held it with my right hand. So many memories of Mother wearing it, instead of her diadem. My eyes water, though I looked down so my hair can cover my face. Ser Barristan noticed this and told everyone to leave. Varys, Tyrion, and Grey Worm obliged, while Missandei stood where she was since she was tending my physical needs.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan spoke.

"I thought I would never see this again," I whispered, the tears starting to fall. "It broke my heart when I had to sell it. The one regret I made that ruined me."

"Alysanne," Ser Barristan murmured resting his hand on my right shoulder. "You did what you thought was best for you and your siblings. Queen Rhaella would've understood. She loved her children dearly and would have done the same if she were alive at the time."

A sob escaped, "I miss her."

Carefully Ser Barristan wrapped his arm around me, one a father would give. "Let's get you back to bed."

I nodded, knowing I need to heal. Not caring if I was presenting myself as weak right now. A lot has been taken from me, and I am only holding on by a mere thread.

**.o0o.**

_The Dwarf and the Eunuch._

The next day, Tyrion and Varys wandered through the streets of Meereen. Varys was cautious, after meeting the Queen and seeing her injuries and received word from his birds on what happened. He felt being inside the pyramid would be safe. Tyrion, on the other hand, thought differently. Thinking it's best to get out and get some fresh air. Get a better look at what is going on. Sadly, as they stroll through the streets, they see abandon wagons destroyed.

"We're never going to fix what's wrong with this city from the top of an eight-hundred-foot pyramid," Tyrion said, as a Meereenese walked by which made Varys cautious. "We'll be fine. We're dressed like common merchants."

Varys stared at Tyrion shaking his head, "You walk like a rich person."

"You've spent a lot of time studying the way rich people walk?" Tyrion asked.

"You walk as though the paving stones were your personal property," Varys said then chortled. "I used to steal from people like you when I was a boy."

"It's a good thing you're not a boy anymore." Tyrion murmured. "Because you have no cock."

Varys rolled his eyes.

They walked down a ramp until seeing a mother on the side of the road comforting her starving baby. Tyrion came over, pulling out a gold honor offering it to the woman. Sadly, his Valyrian being terrible, scared the woman thinking the dwarf wanted to buy the baby and eat him. Varys rushed in.

"She thinks you want to eat her baby," Varys chastised, before becoming calm addressing the woman. _"His Valyrian is terrible. He only wants to give you money so your baby could eat."_

Varys took the coin from Tyrion and offered it to the mother. The woman nervous, accepted the coin and thanked them. Tyrion gave a somewhat smile, although he made a mental note to practice on his Valyrian. He can understand the language; it's forming the actual words to say it was difficult, even though there are only two-thousand words in the language. They continue to walk through the streets when coming up to graffiti on the wall, written in common tongue. Kill the Masters, and Mhysa is a Master stained the sandstone.

"Mhysa means mother in Old Ghiscari," Varys translated.

"I know what mhysa means," Tyrion said.

"Who wrote it?" Varys asked.

"Hard to know," Tyrion answered. "Our queen is not as popular in Meereen as she used to be."

"The Sons of the Harpy?" Varys guessed.

"Very possibly," Tyrion assumed. "The Targaryen Sisters took away their most valuable property, told them human beings weren't even property to begin with. You can see why they're unhappy. Of course, it could also be the freed men."

They enter a square finding some of the freed men surrounding a Red Priest of the R'hllor religion. The Red Priest stood on a wagon facing the crowd, as he spoke the scriptures and prayers.

_"For the night is dark and full of terror…The Lord of Light sent the Dragon Sisters to you, and those who love the darkness injured one and chased the other away._"

"Many of the former slaves feels that Daenerys has abandoned them. Meanwhile, others think Alysanne is dead or dying," Tyrion murmured to Varys.

"She did fly away on a dragon and not come back," Varys reminded.

_"How will you respond?"_ the priest asked the crowd. _"Will you wring your hands, while you wait for the mother to heal? Or will you take up her flames yourselves? Will you fight for your own salvation, now that Queen Alysanne is healing, not able to fight for you?"_

"It's a problem," Tyrion muttered as they walked by.

The Small Council was keeping Alysanne's condition a secret. If the Sons of the Harpy knew she was recovering very well, then they will attack again. If they think she is dying, then they will not strike until after the funeral. Now adding a fanatic religious group into the mix, it may cause a disturbance.

"Fear has brought Meereen to a standstill," Tyrion noted once they were out of the hearing from the religious service. "Whoever you are, wherever you go, someone in this city wants to murder you. We can't fight an enemy we don't know."

"The Sons of the Harpy planned their attack in the fighting pits very carefully, which means they take orders from someone. Already the Small Council confirmed that mercenaries are being paid to aid them, someone with fortune." Varys informed.

"And have you started looking for that someone?" Tyrion asked. He stopped for he thought he smelt something was burning. He tried to figure out someone was burning debris or trash. Either way, the smell was prominent.

"My little birds have already taken wing," Varys said. "Soon they'll return, singing songs of men in gold masks."

Suddenly shouting could be heard. The men looked up to the sky seeing grey and black smoke. Not a second later people were running from the alley that leads to the docks. The word fire was being shouted, followed by the bells ringing. The two went to investigate, rushing to the docks, finding the Meereenese navy being burned down along with other trade ships.

"Well, we won't be sailing to Westeros anytime soon," Tyrion said, baffled by this.

More bad news for the Queen.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

The two sellswords rode their horses, galloping through the hills that enters into the Dothraki Sea. They came across a few shepherds who informed them that they have spotted a black dragon ten days ago and pointed at the direction where it took off. After a few hours, they came across a burned patch surrounded by animal carcasses. Jorah got off his horse and handed the reins to Daario as he went over to inspect it.

Jorah picked up a skull and noted it to be ram. Getting a better look, he found that one of the horns of the rams' skull was melted. In all his life, he knows cooking game on fire could not melt a horn. Only two sources of fire can do that, one in the earth during a volcanic eruption, or by dragon fire. Recalling the times when the dragons would grab sheep and goats and seeing their horns crack and melt.

"Goat?" Daario asked.

"Ram," Jorah answered.

"You think our friend got him?" Daario asked.

"Don't know anything else that can melt a ram's horn," Jorah answered, as he continues to examine the skull.

"We're on the right path then," Daario said.

Jorah nodded dropping the skull and got back on his horse. The two continue to ride seeing the rivers a few miles ahead. Assuming Daenerys would have been thirsty, she would go to the nearest source of running water. It was what she was taught when living among the Dothraki.

"Perhaps she's tired of being a princess," Daario started a conversation. "I don't think she's likes it very much."

"She's too smart to like it," Jorah said.

"Maybe she's flown somewhere else, somewhere far away from men like us," Daario guessed.

"I've been all over the world. There's no escaping men like us," Jorah replied.

"There's no escaping those two, eh?" Daario said.

Jorah gave him a look.

"You keep coming back. Why?" Daario asked.

"You know why," Jorah muttered.

"Isn't it frustrating wanting someone who doesn't want you back?"

Jorah would disagree. He knows Alysanne wants him back. Confessing how she felt when he told her he loves her the second time. Only they can never be together. Not while he was infected with greyscale. It only takes one touch, and his lover would be infected. Jorah would rather die, than risk Alysanne's health.

"Of course, it is," Jorah lied, looking up ahead. He leaned over slightly for he thought he saw something shimmer in the grass.

"You're a romantic. I admire that," Daario noted. "Sometimes I look at you and think, 'So that's what I'll be like when I grow old.""

"If you grow old," Jorah countered.

"If I grow old," Daario agreed. "I hope I do. I want to see what the world looks like when the Dragon Sisters are done conquering it."

"So do I," Jorah sighed.

Jorah winced slightly feeling more of the tightness in his arm and what he could describe as numbness happening at the same time. He let Daario ride ahead, before loosening the bracer and rolling up his sleeve to see that the greyscale has spread. Now the pigment in his skin losing color and turning grey. Jorah knew he needed to hurry in finding Daenerys. Before he dies, he will make sure the sisters are reunited.

"Aren't coming?" Daario called out. "Or are you that saddle sore?"

Jorah muttered something under his breath as he fixed his sleeve and bracer before storming forward. They continue to ride onward when they reached an open field near the mountains. However, something was off. The ground was disturbed forming a gigantic ring. Jorah scowled for he knows what it was.

"Huh, an army?" Daario asked.

"Not an army. A horde," Jorah answered, trotting his horse over to the center of the ring.

"Dothraki?" Daario guessed.

Once there, he got off his horse to inspect the ring. This tactic of a horde forming a circle is used when an army spots a person of value. Trapping people inside, so they are unable to escape. Reaching the center, Jorah inspected the grass until finding a ring with two pearls. Recalling that Alysanne wore a ring just like that, and reminded of what the Khaleesi was wearing, of a white dress, silver dragon necklace, and the pearl rings, confirms that Daenerys was here.

"They have her," Jorah said.

The knight knew that if Daenerys tells the Khal of the horde that she is the widow of Khal Drogo, they'd know what to do with her. He has seen it before, when traveling with Khal Drogo, several blood riders were escorting a widow Khaleesi. Out of customs, Khal Drogo stopped his Khalasar and helped in the escort for the Khaleesi to Vaes Dothrak, so she could be a member of the Dosh Khaleen. Now they know where they will be heading too.

.**o0o**.

_Daenerys's POV_

The Mother of Dragons walked tiredly through the dry valley with the horde. Her hands tied together as two blood riders rode beside to ensure she doesn't escape. Dust of wind blew dirt in the air causing the dragoness to narrow her eyes. One of the Dothraki name Qhono snapped his whip striking her in the back. She gasped, standing up straight and glared at them as they continued on, she learned the two were Aggo (not the one of her khalasar) and Qhono. The two Dothraki chuckled at her. She shook her head looking ahead.

**"Maybe she saw a ghost,"** Qhono guessed.

**"My friend's mother saw a ghost, and her hair turned white. Pink people are afraid of the sun. It burns their skin."** Aggo said. **"This one stands too long in the sun, and her hair goes white."**

**"You think she's got white pussy hair too?"** Qhono asked. "Y**ou ever been with a girl with white pussy hair?"**

**"Only when I was fucking your grandma."** Aggo joked.

Qhono chuckled and noticed Daenerys was looking at them. He made kissing gestured,** "I'll ask Khal Moro for a night with you. What do you think?"**

"**She has pretty eyes, but she's an idiot,"** Aggo said.

**"She doesn't have to be smart to get fucked in the ass,"** Qhono reminded.

Daenerys looked away and shuddered in disgust.

**"I like to talk when I'm finished. Otherwise, we might as well be dogs."** Aggo said.

By the afternoon the horde made camp by a watering hole. Daenerys was set on a matt near the stream and was told to wait. She looked around seeing any familiar landmarks except everything was different. All around the grassed appeared to be the same color as the sand, except for particular spouts of green. She recalled Drogo stating when winter comes in the Dothraki Sea, the green dies, and the land falls asleep.

After a while Aggo and Qhono returned, dragging her to the canopy where Khal Moro resigned with his two wives and the rest of the Blood Riders.

**"For you, my Khal,"** Aggo said, presenting Daenerys to the leader. **"The white-hair girl we found in the hills."**

Daenerys stood there glaring at Khal Moro. Seeing the Dothraki staring at her with much interest.

**"Look at those lips, blood of my blood,"** another blood rider murmured.

**"Purple-eyed women are witches,"** The first wife said.

**"It is known,"** the second wife agreed.

**"Cut off her head, before she casts a spell on you,"** The first wife advised.

**"Even if I were blind, I'd hear my wives say, 'Cut off her head,'"** Khal Moro said, as he stood up walking around her like a predator. **"And I know this woman is beautiful. I'm glad I'm not blind. Seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time, what is better than that."**

**"Killing another Khal,"** the first blood rider said.

Khal Moro nodded in agreement, **"Yes, killing another khal."**

**"Conquering a city and taking her people as slaves, and taking her idols back to Vaes Dothrak,"** The second blood rider said sharpening his dagger.

**"Breaking a wild horse, forcing it to submit to your will,"** the first blood rider added.

This annoyed Khal Moro for that was not where he was going, **"Seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time is among the five best things in life."**

The blood rider chuckled and nodded. Khal Moro reached forward grabbing the top of her dress. Daenerys broke her silence, for she will not be raped in the open. She may have accepted her late husband in making love beneath the stars out in the open. But she will not be taken as a slave.

**"Do not touch me,"** Daenerys snapped. This caught everyone's attention since it was rare for an outsider to know their language. "**I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Princess of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and Mother of Dragon. Sister of Queen Alysanne Targaryen, Dragoness of the West, Queen of Meereen, Leader of the Unsullied."**

Khal Moro stared at her until bursting in laughter. Soon the blood riders joined in as well. Daenerys was surprised, for the Dragon Sisters conquest has been known throughout Central and Western side of Essos. They should know who she was. And yet they laugh at her as if she was some naïve child.

Khal Moro placed a hand on her neck bringing her close, **"You are nobody, Princess of Nothing, slave of Khal Moro. Tonight, I will lie with you, and if the Great Stallion is kind, you will give me a son. Do you understand?"**

**"I will not lie with you,**" Daenerys murmured. **"And I will bear no children, for you, or anyone else. Not until the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east."**

**"I told you she was a witch. Cut off her head,"** the first wife advised.

**"I like her. She has spirit,"** Khal Moro said.

**"I was wife to Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo,"** Daenerys said.

This made Khal Moro and let go of her. By law, no man can sexually touch a widow of a fallen Khal.

**"Khal Drogo is dead,**" Khal Moro said, to be sure.

**"I know,**" Daenerys confirmed sadness of her mistake. **"I burnt his body."**

**"Forgive me, I did not know. It was forbidden to lie with a Khal's widow. No one will touch you,**" Khal Moro promised, drawing his dagger cutting the ropes. **"You have my word."**

Daenerys nodded as she rubbed her wrist. "**If you will escort me back to Meereen, I will see that your Khalasar is given a thousand horses, as a sign of my gratitude."**

**"When a Khal dies, there is only one place for his Khaleesi,"** Khal Moro said, sitting back down next to his wives.

The first wife smirked, **"Vaes Dothrak. The temple of the Dosh Khaleen."**

The second wife smiled, **"To live out her days with the widows of dead khals. It is known."**

**"It is known,"** the first wife agreed.

Daenerys eyes widened for she had forgotten about that. She can't be a Dosh Khaleen. She was the Princess of House Targaryen, she needed to get back to Meereen to help her sister. She doesn't know if her sister was alive or not. Or the state of the Unsullied, Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Daario, Tyrion, and Missandei. If they were alive or injured, or worse dead. Remembering that the Dothraki are devout to their tradition…she was a prisoner.

* * *

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	43. Chapter 43: You Know Nothing

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 43: You Know Nothing**

_Alysanne's POV_

I sat on the lounge staring at my small council. Earlier I had been resting when I was awoken by the sounds of the bells ringing. At first, I thought the city was under attack, until getting up and onto the balcony to see the docks were on fire. The Meereenese navy set ablaze. No doubt it was the Sons of the Harpy's doing.

A Small Council was assembled as I sat next to Missandei. Ser Barristan stood behind me, as Grey Worm stood across the room. Varys sat on another lounge. Meanwhile, Tyrion went to the bar pouring himself a glass of wine. Varys gave him a warning look. Apparently, the Spider knows I don't allow drinking in a council meeting.

"If I lost my cock, I'd drink all the time," Tyrion said.

Varys glanced at Grey Worm. As the Commander of the Unsullied gave a blank intimidating stare. One that can make anyone cower. Tyrion lifted his hand as a sign of apology.

"Meaning no offense," Tyrion said. "He makes dwarf jokes; I make eunuch jokes."

"I do not make dwarf jokes," Varys disagreed.

"You think them," Tyrion murmured, before taking a sip of wine.

"Enough, when a Small Council meeting is assembled, we take things seriously." I reminded. "What news do you bring about the fleet?"

"We are searching for the men who burned the ships, but nobody saw anything," Grey Worm reported.

"Surely there's some good news lurking somewhere," Tyrion said being optimistic.

"Astapor and Yunkai have stopped asking us for aid," Varys announced.

"Perhaps they can tell us their secret," Tyrion murmured with another sip.

"The Masters have retaken both cities. Outside of Meereen, the whole of Slaver's Bay has returned to the slavers." Varys reported.

I clenched my fist and exhaled sharply. I've given those two cities many chances without violence. Other than the execution of Cleon the Butcher. Yunkai, once more in their arrogance has lost their second chance. I made a promise that I will not give a third chance. Now I must decide whether or not to set my armies onto them. However, with the Sons of the Harpy about, I need them in Meereen to be safe.

"What about the dragons?" Tyrion asked. "We have two of them here beneath the pyramid."

"They are not eating," Missandei answered.

"What?" I asked surprised.

"They haven't touched any food since the attack," Missandei explained.

"Can't very well let the dragons starve, that's obvious," Tyrion said.

"If the dragon does not want to eat, how do you force him to eat?" Grey Worm asked.

"Dragons do not do well in captivity," Tyrion answered.

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"That's what I do. I drink, and I know things," Tyrion answered, drinking the rest of his wine before getting a refill. "The dragons Aegon used to conquer Westeros ranged over hundreds of miles. Then Alysanne's ancestors started chaining them up in pens. A few generations later, the last dragons were no larger than cats. They must be unchained, or they'll waste away."

"Viserion and Rhaegal are not chained," I sneered, glaring at him. "They are free to roam and fly. The Catacombs are used as their resting place. I have trained them; they know not to attack humans unless they see a threat."

Tyrion turned to my confidant, "Missandei, how many times were you in the company of these dragons?"

"Many times," Missandei answered.

"And did they ever harm you?" Tyrion asked.

"Never," Missandei answered.

"Dragons are intelligent. More intelligent than men according to some maesters. They have affection for their friends and fury for their enemies." Tyrion said with a smile. "I am their friend."

"Do they know that?" Varys asked.

"They will," Tyrion assured. "It's time they had their supper."

I stood up, "Thank you for insulting me in my presence about the dragons."

Tyrion stared at me realizing his mistake, "I mean no offense."

"Just because you drink and know things, does not mean you know everything. My brother Viserys grew up learning about dragons and passed his knowledge onto me. I have read books that teach about the Dragonlords of Old Valyria and the text of my ancestors. I was there when they have been resurrected by Daenerys. We raised them since they were draglets. Unless you have dragons' blood in your veins and form a bond, they will see you as a threat. You don't choose the dragon; the dragon chooses you. They know Grey Worm, Missandei, and Ser Barristan, because I trained them to trust them. They know their scents; they know their rider trusts them. If you go down to the catacombs, you will be burned alive."

"Your Grace," Tyrion started.

"If you are going to be part of my council, you will think before you speak. And no more wine. If I see you drinking wine in the Small Council meetings again, I will confiscate all alcohol in your service." I said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must attend to the dragons."

I walked out of the room with Ser Barristan and Grey Worm behind me. It wasn't long before Varys and Tyrion followed behind to see the dragons. Once we reach the catacombs, I grabbed hold of Ser Barristan's arm as we came down the steps into the darkness of the chamber. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, rustling and growls could be heard.

"Viserion," I softly sang. "Rhaegal."

The torchlight gave limited lighting in the darkness. Slowly the two dragons emerge from the darkness. They have grown slightly, possibly enough to ride. We will see once I regain my strength. Viserion being my familiar stepped forward until he was right in front of me. Carefully he nudges my left side seeing the sling and possibly smelling the dry blood. I winced slightly at the contact, yet, turned to rest my hand on his snout giving several pats.

"I'm fine, my golden dragon," I murmured. "You did marvelous in protecting me."

Viserion nodded as he stuck his tongue out slightly and licked my hand. I chuckled somewhat before leaning down and kissed his snout.

"You're not eating?" I murmured. "Why are you not eating? Is it because you worry?"

Viserion nodded, as I looked over to Rhaegal who nodded as well.

"I am fine. Daenerys is with Drogon, they are fine." I assured. "You must eat. You must be strong so you can fly into the skies."

The Unsullied brought several goats in. Once the goats were at the bottom level, the dragons looked at me.

"I'll stay while you eat," I promised.

They nodded before each grabbing a goat which cried out in pain, before being dragged further back into the chamber. They set their prey on fire, then started eating the goats chomping on the flesh. I sat down on the bottom steps watching them. A set of footsteps came down, Tyrion joined me as he sat next to me.

"When I was a child, an uncle asked what gift I wanted for my name day. I begged him for one of them. 'It wouldn't even have to be a big dragon,' I told him. 'It could be little like me.'" Tyrion said. "Everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Then my father told me the last dragon had died a century ago. I cried myself to sleep that night. But here they are. "

"Here they are," I murmured.

"I do not mean to offend you, Your Grace," Tyrion said. "My mouth sometimes runs away from me."

"I grew up being belittled by men. Men who think they know everything. But they don't," I said seriously. "You are not in Westeros, Lannister. Here it's about physical brutality and strength. My enemies know this with the support of blood money. If you are going to counsel me, it's best you know what my subjects have gone through. Because my last resort is Fire and Blood."

Tyrion stared at me, eyes widening. The Masters from Yunkai and Astapor are pushing my limits. I have been a benevolent queen. I have given them many chances, and now, once again, they break their vows. Maybe I should have gone with Daario's method of killing all the Wise Masters, the same I did in Astapor and Meereen. However, he was referring to all the Wise Masters and their descendants of male heirs to prevent revenge. I don't want to kill innocents. Unfortunately, the Masters would rather die in their old world than live in the new one.

"Varys," I called out.

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied.

"Find me a Harpy who is connected to all this, give them the option of the Queen's Justice or a second chance," I ordered. "I want to know who else is funding the Sons of the Harpy."

"As your command, Your Grace." He replied and left.

"You are dismissed, Tyrion," I said.

"Aly- "Tyrion started.

"Don't say my name," I barked. "You have not earned to the right to address me by my given name."

Tyrion nodded, as he got up and left leaving Ser Barristan and me. Once we were alone with the dragons, he came down and sat next to me. I allow it, since he is the only one, I can trust at the moment.

"Ser Barristan," I spoke.

"Yes, Your Grace?" He replied.

"You taught me about mercy, and the proper ways of justice," I began.

"That I have," he said.

"I have given Astapor and Yunkai many chances and gave the promise that if they return to the practice of slavery, I would show no mercy. They have broken their word. Do I keep my promise and start a war or wait?"

"If I were you, I would wait. Let the enemy think they have the advantage then strike when they least expect it."

"I don't want to burn and kill innocents, remembering when that Shepard brought his daughters remains," I mumbled, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Nor do I. But those who follow their leaders must suffer the consequences in their decision."

"Would it be wrong to send the dragons to fly over the cities. Just fly, not attack or rain fire?"

"It would remind them that you are still standing."

I nodded as I continued to watch the dragon feast. Deep down I don't want to start a war. I need to save the men for the Great War that is to come. Although, I feel like I am failing. The test the gods placed on me to make the right decisions. Only I can sense blood that is being demanded. Maybe Fire and Blood is the answer. I just need to be careful and not become the Mad King.

**.o0o.**

_Ser Barristan's POV_

The older knight sat there next to his queen who needed comfort. He can tell Alysanne was struggling and wondered if his lessons about mercy have reached its bounds. Deep down no one wants to unleash the dragons to rain fire on the cities. So too many innocent people are forced to obey the Masters' society, and the last thing they want is to kill innocents. Alysanne made it clear it's better to separate the enemy from the crowd. Just as she did in all three cities. She gave the masters many chances, and they break their promises. Barristan knew sooner or later the Queen will have no choice but to use Fire and Blood.

Not only were the Masters of Astapor and Yunkai a problem, Barristan knew the Queen is worried about her sister. One he believes is unhealthy, an obsession to keep Daenerys safe. Then again, he knows that all of Alysanne's life she has been protecting Daenerys since the girl was born. Living on the run, in exile, while Robert Baratheon's assassins chased them. When Daario and Jorah return from the rescue mission, will he discuss balance? Barristan understands the importance of family, having his siblings he cares dealing. But once he became a member of the Kingsguard, he left his family. They were proud and honored of his accomplishment when no one else believed in him.

Family and duty and honor, something a Tully would say. However, Monarchs don't have the same lifestyle as Nobles or Smallfolk. A marriage is political, very rare when one is arranged out of love and children were political pawns. Barristan recalled King Aegon the fifth and Queen Bertha arranging their children's marriages in political alliances until they fought for love. King Jaehaerys, though married for love for his sister, made it political for his children out of a prophecy that Aerys and Rhaella bloodline will produce the prince that was promised. Aerys tried to keep the bloodline pure by sending his best friend Steffan Baratheon to find a pure Valyrian descendant for Rhaegar. Sadly, there were no pure Valyrians, and Rhaegar married Elia Martell securing Dorne again. It wasn't until Viserys and Alysanne were born and survived their infancy, did Aerys decided to marry them when they come of age. Rhaegar was disgusted by this, as he told Barristan that he will be king before that happens.

And yet a Targaryen marrying out of love never gets the happiness they deserve. Prince Duncan abdicating the throne so he could marry Jenny Old Stone, only to perish in the fire. King Aegon and his wife, died during the burning of Summerhall. Rhaegar and his love for Lyanna Stark started a war and died on the battlefield. Now Barristan could see his Queen was in love with a disgraced knight, and yet to his surprise when Jorah came back, he left three days later. He asked the queen if Jorah will return, and Alysanne response, "The Stranger owns him."

Barristan didn't understand what she meant. Why would the God of Death own Ser Jorah? He did not question it, not wanting to make the queen suffer any more than she already has succumbed to the past year. The Older Knight hopes that after the Queen has recovered and dealing with the Masters, she will rise up again. Seeing the powerful woman back in Astapor.

After the attack in the Danzak pit, Barristan had invited a blacksmith in Qohor to forge something special for Alysanne. Qohor was a free city known for their trade in fine tapestries and its smiths. Although they do own slaves, they only purchase the Unsullied to guard their city and nothing else. From what he heard, there are no other slaves, and the Unsullied there are treated with respect the same as Alysanne does with hers. Missandei gave the measurements to the blacksmith so it won't be long.

Barristan looked up ahead and watched the dragons eat.

Enemies are everywhere for the Targaryens. The Lannisters in Westeros, the Masters in Slaver's Bay, and possibly Tyrion and Varys in the council. Barristan will make sure his Queen is safe. Already sees her as his own daughter from all the training and lessons.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	44. Chapter 44: Returning to the Past

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Languages:**_

Common Tongue

**Dothraki**

_Valyrian_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 44: Returning to the Past**

_Daenerys's POV_

The Mother of Dragon walked for many days and nights when she came across the Horse Gate. She never thought she be back in Vaes Dothrak again. As she stood there for a moment gazing at the two bronze statues of stallions. So many memories flooded in her head of the few months of living here. Those months when she was pregnant with Rhaego, Drogo proudly presenting her to the Dosh Khaleen, the Stallion heart ritual, Viserys's Death, the poisoners' attempt, and… Drogo's promised to reclaim the Iron Throne. Now she and Alysanne were continuing that promise, even if her boys were no longer with her.

A kick on the back made her stumbled, as Qhono who was on a horse said, "**Hey, Great Khaleesi. Move your ass."**

Daenerys sighed as she continued walking. Through the Godsway, she noticed all the greenery was gone. Only the dirt and sand remain, winter was here in the Dothraki Sea. Although the sun blazed over and the temperature was warm, the lands were asleep, and the winds blow sending shivers down the spine. It would be awhile when approaching the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. Khal Moro and his two-blood rider who mount their horses waited for her.

**"Welcome home, Khaleesi,"** Khal Moro greeted.

Qhono and Aggo got off their horses and escorted Daenerys inside the temple. There were two dozen women inside, from a variety of ages in their adolescents to the elderly. The High Priestess, was on the platform lighting the fire brazier filled with oil. When the High Priestess was done, she turned facing the three who entered.

**"Go,"** the High Priestess said.

Aggo and Qhono nodded, before leaving the temple. The High Priestess stared at Daenerys with her dark eyes, waiting as she heard the door shut. When the men were done, the woman nodded to the other Dosh Khaleen. Immediately several of the women came forward removing Daenerys's dress and necklace.

**"What are you doing?"** Daenerys demanded, trying to resist. **"Get your hands off me. I will have your heads!"**

Soon she stood naked glaring at the High Priestess. The youngest Dosh Khaleen who was about Daenerys's age came over offering a woven dress. Not wanting to be naked for long, she accepted it, putting on the suede fabric.

**"You have made a mistake,"** Daenerys warned. **"One you will regret. I am the wife of the Great Khal."**

**"We know you are,"** the High Priestess said.** "Remembering you eating the stallion's heart. Why didn't you come to us after Khal Drogo died?"**

**"Because I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Princess of Meereen and the Mother of Dragons. My place is not here with you. But with the blood of my blood."** Daenerys said.

**"You were the wife of the Great Khal. You thought he would conquer the world with you at his side. He didn't."** the High Priestess reminded then sighed. **"I was the wife of the Great Khal. Khal Savo. I thought he would conquer the world with me at his side."**

Daenerys just glared at her.

**"You're young. We were all young once."** The High Priestess said, stepping down before facing Daenerys. **"But we all understand the way things are. You will learn as well if you are fortunate enough to stay with us."**

She then went to wash her hands after tending to the fire.

**"Where else would I go?"** Daenerys asked.** "Every Khaleesi becomes Dosh Khaleen.**

The High Priestess looked at her while washing her hands that a Dosh Khaleen held a bowl of water. **"Yes. Immediately after the death of their Khal but you went out into the world. That is forbidden. All Khalasars have returned for the Khalar Vezhven. They will decide which cities will be sacked and which tribes will be enslaved. And now they must decide what to do with Khal Drogo's silver-haired widow. With luck, your place will be here with us, Mother of Dragons."** She finished cleaning her hands and came over with much sympathy written on her face. **"It is the best you can hope for, now.**"

Daenerys comprehended her words. If the Khals don't allow her to be a Dosh Khaleen, then they will enslave her. Remembering what Khal Moro said before he knew she was a widow of Khal Drogo. However, Daenerys doesn't want to be here. She needed to get back to her sister.

**.o0o.**

_Audience Hall._

Varys sat on the lower platform waving a woven fan to cool off from the heat. The torches were lit, making the Audience Chamber much hotter as night was approaching. He looked around seeing the Unsullied standing at their post. Barely have the men moved except for breathing and blinking. Of course, he noticed from the corner of his eyes when the men adjusted to prevent locking their knees. Usually, when the Queen or Small Council member is not present the Unsullied are at ease. A courtesy from their Leader, although habits were hard to break.

"I don't know how you stand it in all that leather," Varys muttered.

Two Unsullied entered, escorting a Meereenese woman.

"If we could have the room?" Varys requested.

The Unsullied broke their attention and marched out of the chamber leaving the Spider with the Harpy.

"You look lovely today, my dear. You really do," Varys complimented. "How you climbed all those steps without breaking a sweat."

"If you're going to torture me, just call them back and get on with it," the woman said.

"I am not a torturer," Varys assured setting the fan down and stood up, walking over to her. "Though it so often what people deserve. And it does provide answers. But they're usually the wrong answers. My job is to find the right answers. Do you know how I do that? I do it by making people happy. I'd like to make you happy, Vala."

The Meereenese woman's eyes widen.

"That's your name, isn't it, Vala?" Varys asked.

Vala looked away.

Varys chuckled, circling her, "That's all right. I know who you are and what you've done. You've done a lot. You've sacrificed your body for a cause, which is more than most people do." He then stopped and faced her, "And you've helped the Sons of the Harpy murder the Unsullied and the Second Sons."

"The Unsullied and the Second Sons are foreign soldiers brought here by a foreign queen to destroy our city and our history." Vala defended.

"I understand," Varys replied nodding his head. "Well, that makes perfect sense from your perspective. I have a different perspective, of course. I think it's important that you try to see things from my perspective just as I will try to see them from yours. Because that is the only way that I can make you and Dom happy."

He walked over standing right in front of her. Seeing Vala grew tense in mentioning her son.

"That is how you pronounce it – Dom?" Varys asked. "I'm afraid I don't really speak the language. Such a handsome boy. Those big, brown eyes. Good luck keeping the ladies away."

"Yes, you're a true liberator, aren't you? You won't torture me; you'll just threaten my son." Vala sneered.

"Children are blameless," Varys said baffled by her accusation. "I have never hurt them. Your boy is in no immediate danger, this I swear to you." He then got into her face, "But between us, dear, you did conspire to kill the queen's soldiers. We both know the penalty for that crime."

Vala knew that. So far, other than the guilty masters who murdered children, there has been one public execution. One that Queen Alysanne executed on a Harpy who was found guilty. She knew why the Harpy was killed since she was the one who comforted White Rat. The Unsullied Officer did not ask anything from her body, only to be held and sung to, just as she does with Dom.

Varys pulled away strolling a bit, "How will poor Dom get on without his mother? And with his breathing problem."

"If I tell you anything, they'll kill me," Vala said, afraid now. "So, either you kill me, or they do."

"Yes, from your perspective, this is a problem. There is a third option, though." Varys said. "A ship will be leaving tomorrow for Pentos. I've already booked a passage for a woman and her young son. I'll even throw in a bag of silver to help you start again."

As he kicked what could be the back of silver hidden in the corner. Vala was surprised, not understanding this.

"Though I'm afraid we'll have to ask one of our leather-clad friends back in to carry it. Far too heavy for me. "Varys said returning to her. "The boat sails at dawn. You need to decide now. A new life for you and Dom or…the Queen's Justice."

And so Vala sang like all the birds Varys little birds. When Vala asked why the Queen allowed this, the Spider answered, "She is one for mercy."

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

A council meeting was assembled, as Grey Worm, Missandei, Tyrion, Ser Barristan and I waited at the table. Varys was gaining intel and stated he would have the information ready by sunset. I hope so. Otherwise, we will be back to square one again. Tyrion sat there fiddling, not used to the silence. The dwarf was still not on best of terms after his lofty behavior several days ago. Acting like he knows the dragons when in fact he doesn't. What is written in text, is entirely different from the actual creature?

"What should we do while we wait?" Tyrion asked. "To pass the time, what should we do? What should we talk about?"

Grey Worm and Missandei looked at each other confused.

"You speak nineteen languages. You must occasionally use some of them to talk about things," Tyrion said to Missandei taking a sip of his drink of pomegranate juice. Then stared at Grey Worm, "You two, you spend a great deal of time together. What would you be talking about if the queen or I wasn't here?"

"Patrol. When I am going on patrol with the Unsullied. What we see on patrol. Who we captured on patrol?" Grey Worm answered.

"That's good. That's very good," Tyrion said, a bit dumbfounded by the answer. He then got up to refill his drink. "But that's a report. I was thinking more of a conversation."

I must confess it's hard to break an Unsullied from their habit of being well…unsullied. Almost a year, trying to get the men to be themselves, show their real personality. However, the Unsullied lived their lives under a rigorous discipline that they don't know how to express emotions, how to socialize with others who are not their comrades.

"A wise man once said the true history of the world is the history of great conversations in elegant rooms," Tyrion added.

"Who said this?" Missandei asked.

"Me. Just now." Tyrion answered.

Sadly, it went over the Grey Worm and Missandei's head.

"Using a quote of a wise man once said on yourself does not count," Ser Barristan disagreed.

"All right, no conversations," Tyrion said, filling his glass and returning to the table. "Let's play a game."

We looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"You don't play games, either one of you, ever?" Tyrion asked.

"Games are for children," Grey Worm answered.

"My master Kraznys would sometimes make us play games," Missandei said.

"There, that's a start," Tyrion said, taking a sip of juice.

"Only the girls," Missandei added.

Tyrion almost spat up his drink, "No, no, no. Not that. Of course, not that. Innocent games. Fun games. Drinking games."

"Lord Tyrion," I warned. "We are in a council meeting. Have you forgotten my warning?"

"All right. No drinking games." Tyrion said, valuing his rations of wine.

The doors open as Lord Varys entered the Council Room. All eyes turned to the Eunuch as the heavy aroma of lavender follow suit. Everyone but I stood up to greet the man.

"Oh, you took your time," Tyrion greeted his friend, breaking the tension in the room.

"Sorry." The Spider apologized. "I was busy learning who funds the Sons of the Harpy. Some things you can't rush."

"And who are funding the Sons of the Harpy?" I asked.

"The Good Masters of Astapor and the Wise Masters of Yunkai," Varys answered. "With help from their friends in Volantis."

"Volantis?" I repeated slightly surprised since I have spent a few years there under many hosts.

"You see. You don't even have to worry about the local rebellion." Tyrion murmured. "We only have to worry about the three rich foreign cities paying for it."

"You mean paying mercenaries," Ser Barristan reminded.

"We conquered Astapor and Yunkai once. We will do it again and execute the Masters," Grey Worm suggested.

"If the Unsullied march off to reconquer Astapor and Yunkai, who will remain to defend the free people of Meereen?" Tyrion asked.

I sighed pinching the brim of my nose to alleviate a headache.

"If we do not fight them, how can we stop them?" Grey Worm asked.

"We cannot," Missandei answered.

All eyes were on her.

"The Masters speak only one language. They spoke it to me for many years. I know it better than my mother tongue. If we want them to hear us, we must speak it back to them. May it be the last thing they ever hear." Missandei explained.

_Violence, always violence_, I thought.

"You may be right," Tyrion said.

"So we will fight them?" Grey Worm asked.

"Possibly," I answered, then looked at Varys. "Tell me, can your little birds get a message to the Good Masters of Astapor, the Wise Masters of Yunkai, and the…benevolent enslavers of Volantis?"

"Of course, your grace. Men can be fickle, but birds I always trust," Varys assured.

"Good, it's time we all sit down and talk. A last chance for them to come to terms," I murmured.

All eyes were on me. Missandei and Grey Worm understood what I meant along with Ser Barristan. Varys and Tyrion were cautious. I have given the Masters more than enough chances to live in my new order. More than enough chances. Astapor should have known better, after Daario Naharis executed the Usurper Cleon the butcher, liberating the Good Masters and their male sons from becoming Unsullied. They should have been thankful. As for Yunkai…Yunkai is simply asking for it. For someone who calls themselves Wise, they do not portray the name very well.

Viserion and Rhaegal are currently flying over the two cities of Slaver's Bay. They will remind the Masters that I still stand. Remind them I still live and keep my word. This was their final chance.

**.o0o.**

After dinner, Missandei helped me in my evening clothes and applying the ointments, linens, and other things to treat my wounds. The stitches keeping the long laceration going down my back and left upper arm together. The inflammation was still there, feeling the heat as the aloe was applied. Once I was ready for the night, I dismissed Missandei for the rest of the night. I wanted to be alone right now.

Missandei gave the nod before leaving me. Although reminded me the medicine was on the nightstand to ease any discomfort. When she was gone, I stared at the vial continuing the liquid to alleviate one's pains. However, I do not feel like taking it as I adjusted myself to lay on my stomach and hugged a pillow. A tightness of protest could be felt before relaxing. I took several deeps breathes and closed my eyes. I was taking several deep breaths to smell the soothing incense, listening to the sounds of the city, focusing on the beach until sleep succumbs to me.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself back in Dragonstone. This time on the beach. Visenya sat on a boulder sharpening Dark Sister.

"I was wondering when you will show," Visenya said. "The herbs the Blue Graces gave you puts you in a deep slumber."

"So, you know…"

"Like I told you before, no matter how much good you do they will always hate you." She said as she finished sharpening her sword. "I respect how patient you are with the Masters. I wouldn't have given them a second chance after the first warning." She then stood up, "But now is the time not to hold back."

"I seriously don't know what to do," I confessed. "How did you and Aegon do it? All I've read is that you took the battles away from the cities. A war between soldiers and soldiers."

"Because there was a code of honor when it came to war in Westeros," she explained. "However, these lands you resign in don't hold such honor. They are cowards. Who pay poor desperate people and mercenaries to fight their battles in the cities? Sometimes it takes fire and blood to resolve it."

I took a deep breath.

"You used Fire and Blood in Astapor, why do you fear it now?" She asked.

"I acted on impulse," I answered.

"A very calculated impulse," she murmured. "Killed all the Good Masters, spared their children, wives, the soldiers, and the slaves. The same threat you given to the Wise Masters and when you had the Great Masters stand trial. Separating the bad seeds from the rest."

"Still, all my life has been nothing but bloodshed. I can't live the rest of my days in death."

Visenya came over and cradled my cheek like a mother would do. "Jorah was right about you; you do hold a gentle heart. Do you remember what he said to you in Qarth?"

I shook my head, for it has been too long in Qarth.

"He said he sees you not only be respected and feared, but you would also be loved." She reminded. "You are a dragon, be the dragon. Already, you send Viserion and Rhaegal to fly over the cities. That is good; it is the first step before the conference."

"What else should I do?" I asked.

"What do you want to do?" she countered removing her hand.

"I don't want the practice of slavery to return. These are innocent people not prisoners of war, not soldiers. I should remind them of the new contract."

"They'll discuss compensation," she added. "Give them compensation. Afterward?"

"They leave," I finished.

"And how will they leave?" she asked.

I paused trying to think about their departure. All this time I've been focusing on being loved and respected by the people and trying to avoid being feared. Maybe it's time to show fear. Fear doesn't have to be full of actions of a slaughter. Mainly show intimidation.

"Have the dragons seen," I said.

"Excellent," Visenya said. "Now, let's get you prepared for what is to come."

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"In the real world, you are still physically recovering. That does not mean you cannot mentally rest as well. As long as you don't take the sleeping draft, I will continue your lessons. Dragon training, sword training, and how to fight. You have a long way to go from becoming a leader."

I nodded, knowing I need to get back on track. So much is happening and seeing how Varys and Tyrion acted, I can't rely on them when arriving at Westeros. Also needing a distraction from the ache in knowing the man I love was dying. Trying not to worry about Daenerys. I know Drogon won't hurt her. But if she is separated from her dragon and is captured…I pray Daario and Jorah can save her.

Visenya snapped her fingers, and the Targaryen sword appeared in my hand. Before I could ask what kind of style of fighting, she went for the attack. I managed to block her attack, stumbling back not expecting it.

"You had luck when the Sons of the Harpy attacked you," Visenya said. "Always be prepared."

I nodded and grew serious as we trained.

I will get better and stronger.

* * *

**Hey Guys, thanks for reading. I know many of you are expecting more on A Doe in a Lion's Den soon. I'm a bit of a fickle, since I'm debating to focus more on Elain's perspective and the others. I don't want to rewrite the entire scenes from Season Eight. So, bear with me.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	45. Chapter 45: The Three Masters

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 45: The Three Masters**

I walked through the gardens breathing in the freshly bloomed flowers. Missandei and Ser Barristan walked beside me, as my confidant gave me the latest report. Nothing too stressful, mainly the conditions of the barracks and mass halls, funding for the orphanages, and repairs. Ser Barristan has taken over the drastic information that relates to the Sons of the Harpy, based on Grey Worms report; there hasn't been much activity.

It has been several weeks since sending an invitation to Astapor, Yunkai, and Volantis to discuss terms. This fighting needs to stop. Already, news about the Masters arrival has stirred controversy. to which I will be discussing with the Freemen Council very soon. Another conversation I have to deal with. If I am to sail to Westeros when the Horses and Krakens arrived, I need to be sure that the citizens in Slaver's Bay are secured. Ensure that the practice of slavery is forever abolished and has become nothing but a part of history in the past.

Tyrion came over, "You Grace, might I have a word."

"You may," I said.

"As you are aware, we have invited the Good Masters of Astapor, the Wise Masters of Yunkai, and the benevolent slavers in Volantis to discuss terms. I believe I have a plan to secure peace. You attempted to leave a Council to govern the two cities. I admire that, although the men you selected either turned coat or were…" Tyrion paused.

"Butchered," I finished, referring to Cleon.

"Yes, butchered." Tyrion agreed and continued. "Change can't happen in a single day. Not enough time in months for the slavers to change to the new order. Instead of abolishing slavery overnight, we will give them seven years to end the practice."

Grey Worm, Missandei, Ser Barristan and I stopped walking and stared down at Tyrion. Did I hear him correctly, or did he recommended returning the practice of slavery? The one thing I am utterly against.

"The slaveholders will be compensated for their losses, of course, at a fair price. In exchange, they will cut off their support for the Sons of the Harpy."

"They do not support the Sons of the Harpy, they are the Sons of the Harpy," I said.

"Yes, well," Tyrion tried to find his words.

"No. I will not go with this plan. I have spent two years trying to abolish slavery. Spent most of my life watching it, seeing people being degraded as property."

"It's only seven years," Tyrion reasoned.

"Seven years is not a short time for a slave," Missandei scolded.

"You're right. Slavery is a horror that should be ended at once. War is a horror that should be ended at once. You can't do both today," Tyrion said.

Grey Worm moved around, so he was in front of Tyrion pointing his hand at him, "You are wrong to trust these men."

"I don't trust the Masters. I trust their self-interest." Tyrion explained. "They're trustworthy if they're convinced that working with us is in their self-interest."

Grey Worm tried to hold his composure. "You don't know them. You don't understand them. We are not human in their eyes. They look at me and see a weapon. They look at her and see a whore." As he pointed to Missandei.

"They look at me, and they see a misshapen little beast," Tyrion said. "Their contempt is their weakness. They'll underestimate us every time, and we will use that to our advantage."

Grey Worm stopped him again, "You will not use them. They will use you. That is what they do."

Grey Worm and Missandei headed off together, needing to clear their heads leaving us Westerosi. Tyrion stood there baffled by this. I was impressed, seeing Grey Worm expressing himself more, seeing how he truly felt about the Masters coming into Meereen.

"They have taken advantage of us several times now. I will show them how determined I am that slavery will be no more or else." I said. "I gave them their concessions by reopening the fighting pits. I even tried to marry a Master and they murdered Hizdahr zo Loraq. A good man who wanted to keep traditions at the same time evolve from it, trying to find a balance in between."

"You Grace," Tyrion replied. "What do you intend on this conference?"

"Introduce them to the contract method, and seeing they need labor, allow prisoners who are found guilty of a crime be of service in a period of sentencing. There's no Night's Watch here, better put criminals to work than rotting in a cell or executed so easily on lesser charges." I suggested.

"That could work," Tyrion agreed.

"Lord Tyrion, you are not in King's Landing. Central Essos is far more savage than what books and travelers can describe. The farther east you go, the stronger the magic. Along with the cruelty in humanity." I reminded.

"I do not believe in magic," Tyrion said.

"You believe in dragons but not magic?" I asked.

Tyrion did not answer. It was near dusk as the staff was lighting the torches. I stared at Ser Barristan who nodded, grabbing one of the torches and brought it over. Tyrion was confused, as I rolled up my sleeves and put my hand in the open flame. The dwarf rushed in stopping me, yanking my arm away. He then stopped seeing my hand was perfectly fine — no burns, blisters, redness, or blood. His green eyes gazed at me in shock.

"Learn your environment. Otherwise, you will most likely die in these strange lands." I advised him, before Ser Barristan and I left. I'll admit, that was a bit dramatic. But Tyrion needs to know there are more unexplained things in this world that are to come. Especially when the Dead come marching south in Westeros. I need him to be prepared for what is to come.

**.o0o.**

On the day of the Conference, I watched along with the Small Council as a Yunkai ship sailing with Harpy sails. If that weren't a clear indication, they would support the Sons of the Harpy I don't know what is.

"My queen, you invite the enemy into our city," Grey Worm said.

"I did," I confirmed.

"As a clever man once told me, 'We make peace with our enemies, not our friends,'" Tyrion said.

"Don't you mean you?" Ser Barristan asked as we started walking back to the Great Pyramid.

"I don't make peace with the queen's enemies. I kill the queen's enemies." Grey Worm reminded.

"Yes, that's the military approach. And how has that worked here in Meereen?" Tyrion said. "I represent the diplomatic approach."

"Our queen tried to make peace with the Masters, and they tried to murder her," Missandei reminded.

Tyrion and Varys stopped walking and faced us. Missandei does give an excellent point.

"We enter these negotiations with open eyes. Trust me." Tyrion said. "My own recent experience with slavery has taught me the horrors of that institution."

"How many days were you a slave?" Missandei asked.

Tyrion bit his lips since he was addressing two people who were slaves since the age of five. Grey Worm has no memory of his childhood in the Summer Ilse, and Missandei remembers her home being plundered in Naath. They both went through the brutal grooming process. Although their enslavement has provided them skills in communication and battle, it doesn't erase the abuse they experienced. One that can't be taught in a few simple days. When Missandei asked me about Viserys, she believed I too was a slave. A bed slave, or a breeder. Even though an abusive marriage is nothing compare to what she encountered. Let alone, growing up watching human beings being mistreated.

"Long enough to know," Tyrion answered nervously.

"Not long enough to understand," Missandei disagreed.

"Let's get inside," I advised. "And try not to kill each other."

A few hours later the Masters were brought in to the solar lounge in the Great Pyramid. The three men representing the three cities were: Yezzan zo Qaggaz representing Astapor. Last I recalled, he was a Meereenese pit slave trader. Jorah informed me about the small slave auction happening outside the city which was put to an end. Then there was Razdal mo Eraz, the Savage Representative of Yunkai if I am correct. Last I saw him, he threatened me about his powerful friends who somehow ended up becoming my friends. And lastly Belicho Paenymion a prominent noble of the Free City of Volantis. I recall seeing him; he attended my wedding to Viserys. Three men that I recognize. One who attended my incestuous wedding, the one who tried to buy his city out of sacking, and the one who allowed the Sons of the Harpy to enter the Daznak Pits. Once introductions were out of the way, we took a seat except for Ser Barristan, Grey Worm and Yezzan who walked around.

The Slave Trader spoke, "I bought this dwarf for a single gold honor. And somehow, you've risen to the top of the Great Pyramid of Meereen. It's most impressive." As he plucked a date from the concession table.

"And now you speak for the Good Masters of Astapor," Tyrion causally replied, then lifted his glass of wine which I allowed him to drink. "Here's to reversals of fortune."

"We came here to meet the queen, and instead were greeted by a dwarf and a eunuch," Razdal said.

"You are talking to members of my council," I said. "I do not tolerate disrespect. Now tell me what you want."

"We want you to leave Slaver's Bay," Belicho said. "Take your dragons and your mercenaries and go."

"Really? Because a few months ago, Hizdahr zo Loraq brought me concessions from Yunkai requesting to reopen the fighting pits towards free men. As for Astapor, I recalled there was a man called Cleon the Butcher, who was butchering Astapori as a sport and turning sons of Good Masters into Unsullied. My Second Sons took care of that problem." I murmured. "I don't recall having any quarrels with Volantis. So, tell me Lord Belicho Paenymion, what lies has Razdal mo Eraz told you in order to gain your cities fleet and funding to support mercenaries who slaughter innocent Meereenese people."

Lord Belicho grew silent. Yezzan came over to the lounge sitting next to Razdal. He was a complete contrast between the Master and the Nobleman. He was not wearing finery of jewelry and silks. Most would say he was middle class or trying to be as he can afford leather boots and the brass link of his sash belt.

"Besides, I won't stay in Meereen forever. My path takes me westward," I assured.

"When we last met, I offered you ships, so you could return to Westeros where you belong," Razdal said. "You refused."

"She refused them because of the hundreds of thousands of men, women and children still lived in chains." Missandei chastised.

"As they have since the dawn of time," Razdal reminded.

"Not anymore," Grey Worm countered.

"You think you're a free man now?" Yezzan challenged. "You still follow orders. Just because your master has silver hair and tits doesn't mean she's not a master."

"Mind your tongue," Ser Barristan warned.

"Friends, friends. Friends. Please." Tyrion stopped the argument; however, both Grey Worm and Yezzan glared at each other. "There have always been those with wealth and power and those with nothing. That is the way of the world. We're not there to change the way of the world."

"Slavery is the way of _our_ world," Yezzan said.

"You don't need slaves to make money. There haven't been slaves in Westeros for hundreds of years and peoplegrew up richer than any of you." Tyrion said, striking a good point. "But our queen recognizes that she erred by abolishing slavery without providing a new system to replace it."

I felt my eyebrow twitched while grinding my teeth. He just insulted me in front of the masters. I had provided a new system to replace slavery. It's because these arrogant fools won't conform to it. Before Tyrion could speak, I intercepted.

"So, here is my proposal." I began. "Slavery will never return to Meereen, but I will give the other cities of Slaver's Bay a new method of servitude. Instead of executing your convicted criminals or keeping them locked away, they shall repent over time in labor. I also allow a new system called a worker's contract, there are freed men of the trade who need work. In these contracts they work for a duration of three years or less, depending on terms, where they are provided food and boarding with limited wages. And realizing that some industries required laborers, I'm willing to compensate them over the times lost in profit, of course, at a fair price. In exchange, you will cut off your support for the Sons of the Harpy."

"We do not support the Sons of the Harpy," Yezzan immediately denied this.

"Fine, fine, but you will cut it off all the same," Tyrion said. "I do hope you accept, my friends. The Queen has been very patient and generous over the past year. You will not receive a better offer."

All three men turned to me. Razdal mo Eraz and I locked, for we knew our conflict started the moment I offered negotiation before sieging Yunkai. He was the Master Mind. I don't have proof, but out of three men before me, he held a vendetta. Let alone the dragons threatening him in their toddler years.

"And this will be my final offer," I warned. "It has been a while since I bled my Unsullied."

Their eyes widen seeing that I spoke the truth. Tyrion and Varys were surprised by my threat while my true council nodded. Even Ser Barristan agreed that now is the time to give them their final warning. If Volantis is smart, they will remove themselves from this quarrel. This was between me and the Red and Yellow cities. My message seemed to get to them, as Tyrion cut the tension by ringing a bell.

"Let us sail on the tide of freedom instead of being drowned by it," Tyrion suggested. "Give freedom a chance. See if it doesn't taste every bit as good as what came before."

Not a moment later three women underdressed came in waltzing over to the Masters. My eyes widen for this is not how I settle terms. This goes against my moral code.

"And as a parting gift to our honored guests," Tyrion added.

The honored guest accepted the token of affection having the women on their laps caressing their body. Immediately I stood up and left the room, keeping a calm composure. Once out of the solar lounge, and out of hearing I turned facing the dwarf.

"You dishonored me in front of the enemy," I whispered.

"I did no such thing," Tyrion said.

"You said I made an erred, that I left no new system. I spent months in each city, being verbally insulted to my face in their arrogance towards change. Months in creating a council between the Freemen and the Masters, with the guidance of Ser Barristan, Jorah, and Missandei. And in three sentences you acted like that was nothing. If you have seen what we have seen, you would've understood. But you don't. A week in chains does not make you a slave. Have you talked to the people as I advised, or guzzled wine?"

"Your Grace," Varys started, but I silence him.

I looked down at Tyrion, "If this is your way of providing service, I might as well send you back to King's Landing because I need advisors who know what they are doing based on experience. Not what they read in a book alone. Do I make myself clear?"

Tyrion nodded.

Leaving the corridor, I made my way to the Audience Hall where the Freemen Council had arrived. They were huddling together whispering in Valyrian. Taking a deep breath and fixing my composure I greeted them.

_"My dear friends_," I greeted. "_Apologies, for making you wait."_

Missandei started translating for Ser Barristan and Tyrion.

"We speak the Common Tongue," the elder Kelsh said.

"Excellent," Tyrion sighed in relief.

"You met with the slavers today," Kelsh accused.

"That I did," I confirmed.

"Our brothers and sisters died fighting these scums," Ash said. "Now you invite them to our city and drink wine with them?"

Grey Worm inhaled sharply.

I took a deep breath, stepping down the stairs from the throne, middle platform, and bottom platform until I was standing on the floor level as these men.

"You brought a stranger here to Meereen," Ash said looking at Tyrion. "Why do you have him represent Meereen in these talks with our enemies."

"Because I have chosen him as one of my advisors. Having experience as Hand of the King in Westeros, preventing sieges and attacks, and finance balances." I said.

"We don't know him. We don't trust him," Ash said. "We know Torgo Nudho. We fight with him against the Masters. We trust him."

All eyes went to Grey Worm.

"My friends, I always have Grey Worm and Missandei at my negotiations. I hear and listen to them to seek their counsel, for the experience that you all have. As commander of the Unsullied, he knows how to defeat the slavers. And advised me that if this negotiation doesn't work, then it will be war," I said. "War is not I wish upon us all. I want to negotiate peace with the slavers, the same as we have with the Masters in Meereen."

"You have made peace with the slaver?" Kelsh growled.

_"And you, Grey Worm?_" Marselen asked the Unsullied. _"You want to drink wine with these men? The men who tore us from our mothers' arms and sold us at auction like cattle?"_

_"I am a soldier, not a politician,"_ Grey Worm answered. _"But if there is a chance for peace – a just peace –we should take it."_

_"Missandei, you know what these men are. How can you trust them?"_ Kelsh asked.

_"I do not trust them. I will never trust them."_ Missandei answered then sighed, _"But as a wise man once said, "we make peace with our enemies, not our friends."_

The men nodded.

_"This is the Masters last chance, dear Kelsh,"_ I said taking his hand._ "If they do not come to terms to peace, then the dragons will show them the consequences. You have my word."_

_"Thank you, my queen."_ The elder said.

This time I am keeping my word. If the Masters dare disobey, they will know Fire and Blood. As later today while the three men board their ship, Viserion decided to fly a bit close to the vessel before taking to the sky. A subtle goodbye.

* * *

**Guys, thank you for the 400 reviews. I was shock when I saw that I have received 400 reviews. I thank you all for your support, critique, ideas, and motivation in writing this story. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	46. Chapter 46: Khalar Vezhven

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: Chapter rated M for mild sexual content and language**_

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**Chapter 46: Khalar Vezhven**

_Jorah's POV_

The Exiled Knight felt the following symptoms of Greyscale coming to him. The fatigue and tiredness as his left arm started to feel heavy and numb. Already the disease has consumed his left arm, in a tinted grey, while the first stage of calcifying cracked his skin like the compact desert lands. He was still able to move his arm and had feeling in his left hand; however, he knows time was running out. The weeks through Dothraki Sea wastelands. As the realization came that it was Khalar Vezhven, the time where all the Khalazars gather together and the Khals go over plans in which regions they shall reign, cities to pillage, and who is on resting terms. Therefore, Daario and Jorah had to travel around many Khalazars without being spotted.

They were outside Vaes Dothrak, climbing the mountains to get a better view of the city. Sadly, the Greyscale was consuming all of Jorah's energy. It was making him feel like an old man, instead of the shape he was usually in. Before Greyscale, he climbed with ease, but now there are moments he had to stop to catch his breath. Daario walked ahead, then turned around seeing Jorah hunched over a boulder.

"You all right?" Daario asked. "Why don't you sit and catch your breath?"

Jorah took a deep breath and forced himself up, before joining him, "I'm fine."

Daario scuffed, "I don't think you could ride the dragon. Twenty years ago, maybe."

"What?" Jorah panted.

"The Dragon Sister, Daenerys is wild. I assume Alysanne is the same. Don't let their size fool you." Daario explained. "It's hard enough for me, and I'm a young man." He pointed to Jorah. "You…I don't think your heart could take it."

Jorah was not in the mood to discuss his sex life, especially his intimacy with Alysanne. One thing he learned about sex, is that it should never be rushed or about endurance. It's about skills and knowing the body. A man can find his release with ease, but for a woman, it's complex to learn and find their sweet spots that bring them ecstasy. Yes, Jorah will admit Alysanne has endurance, being young and a Valyrian descendant, but she is not highly sexual as Daenerys. Alysanne is more towards the emotional intimacy than physical.

So, he rolled his eyes and started walking.

"Must make you angry that they chose me," Daario murmured.

"Makes me sad," Jorah sighed. "You'll disappoint Daenerys before long. She'll move on."

He knows Alysanne never slept with Daario. One thing for sure is that the Queen doesn't go for cocky bastards. Let alone take men who slept with her sister. Also, the matter that the girls will need to have political marriages once they sail for Westeros as much as it breaks Jorah's heart to think of his love in the arms of another. If he didn't have Greyscale, he wonders in time she would have taken him back. Maybe he was a romantic, all he ever wanted was a special partner to share his life with. When Alysanne stated she would not follow tradition, he believed her. Thinking there was a chance for him. But as the campaign grew dire, and alliances demanding marriage…the realization came. Also, he doesn't believe Daario will have the same capability to Drogo, Daenerys loved her first husband…and Daario was more of a mistress.

"We'll all disappoint them before long," Daario said.

"We need each other right now," Jorah scolded, turning to face the sellsword. "After we're done needing each other …"

Daario lifted his hands in defense, "I don't want to fight you, Jorah the Andal. What do I have to gain? If I win, I'm the shit who killed an old man. If I lose, I'm the shit who was killed by an old man."

"You didn't get much discipline as a child, did you?" Jorah concluded.

"None," Daario confirmed, sarcastically.

Jorah shook his head. He grew up on discipline. By his father, his mother, his aunt Maege, Maester, and Bear Islands Master of Arms. Never was abused, but got many smacks up against the head, spank, and loss of privileges growing up if he was ever disrespectful or got in trouble. Even was put on guard duty in the middle of the coldest night when he ran his mouth at age thirteen. At least Jorah got a chance to see a clear starry night and thought he saw a shooting star.

Anyway, he led the way to a spot where they can scout the city. On the very stop, they laid on their stomach, trying not to be caught. Winter has indeed arrived for the Dothraki Sea, as the greenery has gone into hibernation. Jorah told the locations to the Tyroshi Sellsword.

"The road running through the Horse Gate, they call the Godsway," Jorah informed, pointing at the city. "Eastern Market, Western Market. When Khal Drogo died, she was supposed to come here and join the Dosh Khaleen, the widows of the dead khals." He glanced at Daario. "That's where they'll have taken her." Then pointed to the temple that was in the middle of the city. "The Temple of the Dosh Khaleen."

He stood up, trying to find a hiding spot to hide his sword. He found a good shrubbery, easy to conceal his weapons. So, he started to unfasten his belt.

"What are you doing?" Daario asked.

"It's forbidden to carry weapons in the sacred city," Jorah answered.

"Isn't it forbidden to sneak into their city and steal their Khaleesi?" Daario asked.

"If they spot us and we're unarmed, we'll say we're traders heading for the Western Market," Jorah explained, as he wrapped the belt around the scabbard. "But if they see weapons…"

Daario started stripping his arakh, "You're asking a dog to hand over his teeth."

"There's 100,000 of them down there. We can't fight our way out. We wait till dark, and then we'll find her." Jorah said, hiding his sword in the bush.

Daario handed over his arakh and joined it with the broadsword. He then noticed Daario trying to hide the stiletto behind his back. Jorah raised a brow having his hand out silently telling Daario to hand it over. Like a parent telling a child to hand over the toy before bed. The Tyroshi fiddled with his favorite dagger, delaying the process.

"I'm very attached to this knife," Daario said. He kissed the handle in shape of a woman, on the buttocks.

Jorah flexed his hand silently telling him to hand it over. Daario was about to do so when he looked at Westerosi Knight's sleeve. The fabric was torn above the bracer revealing the greyscale. Jorah adjusted his shirt tucking it inside the bracer.

"Don't worry. It didn't touch you," Jorah assured cautiously.

Daario nodded, "You know what happens?"

"I know what happens," Jorah said.

"I'll do it myself," Daario said.

Jorah nodded walking away staring at Vaes Dothrak and then to his arm. He had succumbed to the disease, he accepted his inevitable death. Knowing he will do a mercy kill before the disease plagues his mind into that of a Stoneman. Before he does so, he will make sure Daenerys is returned to her sister. It's the last thing he can do for Alysanne. Not having the girl being the last Targaryen in the world and have what remaining family she has left by her side.

**.o0o.**

By nightfall, they enter the city, keeping to the shadows and alleyways. A celebration was happening, as all the khalasars mingled in the main streets. Dothraki Screamers were seeking game in women in their runting ritual. Some even searching for wives. Jorah and Daario crept through one, seeing several Dothraki having a go at it, open in the streets. Some in the traditional method of being taken from behind, while others still standing, pinning the woman to the wall and thrusting inside her.

"I should have been born a Dothraki," Daario murmured.

Jorah couldn't help but snort. Once having the same thought when he was welcomed to Drogo's tribe. Getting back on track, the Knight lead the way through the city, stopping now and then when hearing people crossing by. Usually, a few wanderers returning to their temporary homes having enough for the night. Heavily drunk that they hardly noticed the two foreigners.

Unfortunately, they came across Aggo and his friend Iggo.

**"My friends…"** Jorah greeted slightly out of breath. "**We wandered off from the Western Market and got lost. Could you show us the way back?"**

"**What do you sell?"** Aggo asked.

**"Wine. Come down to my stall tomorrow, I'll give you a cask of the Arbor's finest," **Jorah convincingly lied.

This got Iggo's interest. However, Aggo came over spotting old blood stain on Jorah's upper arm from the Danzak pit. The Dothraki rider also noticed Daario was wearing light leather armor.

**"You're not merchants,"** Aggo accused, then ordered to his friend, "**Get the others."**

Iggo started running, Daario quickly went after him. Aggo turned to stop Daario; however, Jorah grabbed him by the arm and punched the Dothraki in the face. Aggo however, ducked avoiding the punch. Aggo grabbed Jorah by the shoulders forcing him down and kneeing him in the face. This stunned Jorah falling to the ground. Quickly he stood up, tossing punches which Aggo blocked, and received two more punches in the face. The Greyscale was suppressing his fighting ability more than usual. All the energy he had in the Daznak pit was gone. Aggo gave another blow to Jorah, sending across the alley and into the building. Jorah fell to the ground, and pain quickly felt in the face as he slid down.

As the Dothraki came forward, Jorah gathered some sand and threw it at Aggo. The Blood rider turned and looked at Jorah confused at the petty attempt. Jorah sighed, lunging up, only to be met with Aggo's hands around his neck strangling him. Jorah gasped, gagging, as he felt his throat closing up. In a desperate attempt, he tried to grab and wrapped his arms around Aggo's own to break his grasp. However, Aggo held on tight, adding more pressure. Suddenly a blade punctures through the Dothraki's chest out of nowhere. Both Jorah and Aggo looked at it surprised since it was in the heart. A quick kill, as Aggo lost hold of his grasp and fell to the ground dead. Jorah secured his neck panting, as he looked up seeing Daario wiping the blood off his blade.

"Told you, I've very attached to this knife." Daario murmured. "You alright?"

Jorah, though thankful that Daario saved him, found another problem. He stood up looking at the corpse, "If they find a body with a stab wound, the whole city will be looking for us."

Let alone Western Merchants being blamed and stalls destroyed. The only blades allowed here were stone knives. Easy to cut through food, but not sharp enough like any weapon.

Daario nodded searching for a substitute when spotting a large rock. He grabbed hold of it, hunching over the corpse and started plundering it from skull to chest to make it seem like a brawl had transpired badly. Jorah winced, watching it. Wondering if there was any remorse in the Tyroshi.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys sat in the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. The past few weeks she was kept inside waiting. Only allowed out to get some water with another Dosh Khaleen. The reason for the long wait is because not all the Khals were here until this morning. Tomorrow night, the Khalar Vezhven will spend the first meeting to discuss her fate. Will she be a part of the Dosh Khaleen or be taken in as a slave or forced to be a wife? Many thoughts linger in her head since she can make her excuse that she was not aware of the traditions of a widow to come to Vaes Dothrak after her husband died. Since she was only married for less than a year and still learning the Dothraki culture. However, it still binds her to the sacred city.

She needed to get back to Meereen. Barely sleeping, wondering if Alysanne was alive, injured or dead. The last she saw her sister, was being told to get on Drogon and fly.

_Damn it, Dany! Go, you are our only hope for our House!_ Alysanne's voice echoed in her head.

For the first time since she was a child, she mentally prays to the Seven that Alysanne was alive. All her life since Ser Willem's death, did she have her sister. Viserys, in the beginning, was her brother, yet his cruelty did not give him the same respect as Alysanne. The Dragoness who was both sister and mother to her. The Mother of Dragons also understood her many mistakes, taking advantage of Alysanne and acting spoiled. She only thought of herself and the Iron Throne, threating and burning things while Alysanne suffered and fixes the mess Daenerys made. It was this unknown impulse that was inside her. One that doesn't make her think, only act.

And now she is alone, thinking she was the Last Dragon.

Her gaze was focused on the Dosh Khaleen whispering about her.

**"Some of them don't think Dothraki should breed with foreigners,"** the High Priestess who was the only one willing to sit next to her. **"They are stupid old women. They don't realize that we have always diluted our blood. This one is Lhazareen."** Gesturing to the youngest. **"Her Khal found her hiding in a well after he burned her village. How old were you?"**

Daenerys paused trying to remember the young Dosh Khaleen's name. She believes it was Ornela.

The Dosh Khaleen paused trying to remember, **"Twelve."**

**"A year later, she bore her Khal, a daughter. How did he show his happiness?"** The High Priestess asked.

**"He broke my ribs,"** Ornela answered bitterly, though her voice was timid.

**"We are not queens here, but the khals depend on us for our wisdom**," the High Priestess explained**. "Our lives have meaning."**

**"That is more than most have,"** Daenerys said.

**"When the khals meet for the Khalar Vezhven tomorrow night, I hope they let you live out your days with us. The other possibilities are not so pleasant." **The High Priestess said.

**"I need to get some water,"** Daenerys announced standing up.

**"You can't run from Dothraki,"** The High Priestess warned. **"You know this."**

**"I will never run from the Dothraki,"** Daenerys replied monotone.

**"Go, show her,"** The High Priestess ordered Ornela.

The youngest nodded as she stood up. The two left the temple, with ease. Though she felt the Dosh Khaleen watching them. Once outside and the door closed, Daenerys sighed in relief.

"**I needed fresh air,"** she confessed. **"The old women stink."**

Ornela who had her head down smiled slightly, **"They do stink."**

**"You must have been very young when your Khal died,"** Daenerys said.

**"Sixteen,"** Ornela mumbled.

**"Too bad he didn't die sooner,"** Daenerys said.

Ornela looked at her surprised, which Daenerys smiled. This made the timid Dosh Khaleen smile,** "Yes, too bad."**

They continue to make their way to the stream. Although Ornela was curious, having heard the rumors from Khalasars who passed through the city.

**"Is it true you have three dragons?"** Ornela asked.

**"Mm-hmm,"** Daenerys replied.

**"And they breathe fire?"**

**"They do. Would you like to see them one day?"**

**"I am a Dosh Khaleen. I can never leave Vaes Dothrak until I rise as smoke from the pyre on the day I die."**

Suddenly Ornela was grabbed, a hand wrapped around her face silencing her. Daenerys gasped until realizing it was Daario and Ser Jorah next to him. She then spotted the stiletto against Ornela's neck.

"No, don't hurt her," Daenerys quietly ordered.

"She'll give us away," Daario whispered.

"We have to go now," Jorah insisted.

Daenerys grabbed the stiletto and pulled it away from Ornela's neck, "We will never get out of Vaes Dothrak alive."

"All we can do is try," Jorah whispered.

"No," Daenerys said then had an idea. "We can do more than that. And you're going to help me." She then turned to Ornela, **"And you…Have faith in me, Khaleesi. Do not betray me."**

Ornela nodded. Daenerys saw the truth and told Daario to let her go.

**"Don't scream pretty girl**," Daario whispered to her, letting her go.

Ornela rushed to stand behind Daenerys rubbing her jaw. Knowing that Ornela spoke and knew Dothraki and Lhazareen, the three foreigners spoke in Common Tongue. Daenerys told them of their plan, that when she goes inside for the Khalar Vezhven, to barricade the door. She will take care of the rest by burning the temple to the ground.

"Why?" Jorah asked. "Why kill the Khals?"

"Because if a person kills the Khals and their blood riders, they inherit the Khalazar. You said yourself twelve thousand men are not enough to invade Westeros. Imagine a hundred thousand." Daenerys answered.

Jorah sighed, seeing her point, and knowing that the Dragon Sisters were immune to fire. Daario was a bit skeptical, but seeing Alysanne burned by Rhaegal's dragon-fire without a single scratch, obliged. Daenerys then looked at Jorah.

"Alysanne…is she?"

"She's alive, injured but alive," Jorah assured her. "She sent us to find you."

Daenerys sighed in relief.

Realizing she and Ornela have been gone too long, told the men to hide until tomorrow. They split up preparing what is to come.

**.o0o.**

_Temple of the Dosh Khaleen._

The Khals assembled for Khalar Vezhven in the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. Today, Khal Moro was in charge, for tonight they will discuss the fate of Khal Drogo's widow. All the Khals knew and respected Khal Drogo. He was the Great Khal during his time. Not once have been defeated. Among the Khals was Forzho, Brozho, Rhalko, and Qorro. They were the Khals of the Dothraki, and after the Khalar Vezhven, they will decide who is the Great Khal. Determining who is Great Khal was more civil than killing each other.

Although, it has been informed two of Morro's men are dead. Iggo having his neck snapped and Aggo head plunder to death.

**"It is forbidden to spill blood in the sacred city,"** Forzho announced.

**"It is forbidden to carry a weapon in the sacred city,"** Moro added.

**"So we don't spill blood!"** Forzho challenged.

**"Well…there's always a little blood,"** Moro said.

**"Someone crushed his head with a rock,"** Forzho reminded.

**"Aggo belonged to my khalasar,"** Moro said. **"He served me well. He got his head smashed by a rock. Fuck Aggo."**

Forzho sighed, knowing that was true. Blood can be spilled when smashing a person's head or scraping from the ground. A Dothraki can kill another Dothraki with their bare hands in the sacred city. It just cannot be with the use of a sharp weapon.

**"Bring in Drogo's widow,"** Moro called out.

The doors opened at the High Priestess, and Ornela brought Daenerys inside the temple. The women came before the Khals. Out of respect of their years besides their late Khals, the men bow their heads. The Dosh Khaleen was the second most powerful women in the Dothraki. They reign over Vaes Dothrak and lend their wisdom to the Khals who seek guidance. Once Daenerys was presented, the official Dosh Khaleen left to allow the Khals to decide Daenerys's fate.

**"Who cares about her? She's a midget,"** Brozho said.

**"I like her,"** Forzho murmured.

**"She's paler than milk,"** Brozho said.

**"I'd like to know what a khaleesi tastes like,"** Rhalko added his interest.

**"Good. You can suck my dick,"** Forzho which everyone but Moro and Daenerys laughed.

Moro being a man of Dothraki honor spoke, **"She belongs with the Dosh Khaleen."**

**"The Wise Masters of Yunkai want her. They're offering ten thousand horses in exchange,**" Qorro said. **"What's worth more, one pink little girl or ten thousand horses?"**

**"Fuck the Wise Masters in their perfumed asses. I'll take their horses for myself,"** Moro scolded.

Daenerys had enough been treated like she wasn't in the room, **"Don't you want to know what I think?"**

All eyes went to her.

**"You'd rather be sold into slavery?"** Moro asked. **"Or maybe you'd like to show Rhalko here what you taste like?"**

_"_**No,**_"_ Daenerys said, and looked at Rhalko who was grinning. **"I don't want either of those things."**

Rhalko frowned.

**"We don't care what you want,"** Moro said. **"This is the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. You have no voice here unless you are Dosh Khaleen. Which you are not, until we decide you are."**

**"I know where I am. I have been here before."** Daenerys said, glancing at the brazier on the platform.** "This is where the Dosh Khaleen pronounced my child the Stallion Who Mounts the World. "**

**"And what happened?"** Morro asked, taunting. **"You trusted a sorceress, like a fool. Your baby is dead because of you. And so is Khal Drogo. "**

Daenerys took a deep breath, **"This is where Drogo promised to take his khalasar west to where the world ends."** She walked around getting on the platform. "**To ride wooden horses across the Black Salt Sea as no khal has done before. He promised to kill the men in their iron suits and tear down their stone houses. He swore to me before the Mother of Mountains."**

**"And you were dumb enough to believe him,"** Moro said.

**"And here, now, what great matters do the Great Khals discuss?"** Daenerys asked.** "Which little villages you'll raid, how many girls you'll get to fuck, how many horses you'll demand in tribute. You are small men. None of you are fit to lead the Dothraki. But I am. So I will."**

The temple was engrossed in silence. Until Khal Moro started laughing, soon joined by the others in the room. Moro made his decision.

**"All right. No Dosh Khaleen for you,"** Moro declared. **"Instead we'll take turns fucking you. And then we'll let our blood riders fuck you. " **He then stood up, **"And if there's anything left of you, we'll give our horses a turn."**

Daenerys just smiled.

**"You crazy cunt,"** Moro yelled. **"Did you really think we would serve you?"**

Daenerys grasped the brazier frame. Everyone's eyes widen seeing she did not flinch or retracted from the hot metal.

**"You're not going to serve. You're going to die."** Daenerys promised, knocking it down towards the khals and their blood riders.

The men stumbled back trying to avoid the oil and fire pouring their way. Moro attempted to attack her, except Daenerys pushed the brazier over spilling more liquid fire. She stood there with a neutral facing, watching the Dothraki warriors trying to escape. Many reaching the doors pushing it. Unfortunately, the two guards who stood outside were killed by Jorah and Daario. If not for putting a thick branch barricading the doors were locked, trapping the Khals inside the burning building. The two men watched from afar seeing the Dothraki rushing to the Temple that was set ablaze.

Meanwhile, inside, as burning debris fell, Moro turned glaring at Daenerys. She stared back at him, eyes promising revenge for slandering her and not taking her back to Meereen. She grabbed the last two braziers and knocked them down. The burning oil splashing forward claiming the khals as they scream in agony.

Daenerys stood there feeling the flames tickling her skin. Burning away her innocence to become a woman that she desires. It was time for her to be a dragon, to take responsibility and be a leader. When the doors burned out, she stepped outside naked before the Dothraki. Everyone was shocked, seeing her standing amongst the flames unburnt. They all kneeled before her. Jorah and Daario came forward. The knight standing before one of the dragons kneeled. Daario seeing this for the second time, seeing his lover standing there in the fire did the same.

Daenerys looked at them as she thought,_ we're going home._

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**Thanks for reading and please a review!**


	47. Chapter 47: The Prophecy

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 47: The Prophecy**

_Vaes Dothrak_

Daenerys, Jorah and Daario stood on the mountain top having a view of the sacred city. It has been two days since Daenerys burned down the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen and became the Great Khaleesi. Over those two days as the Dothraki grasp who their new Khal is, and prepare to take the Dothraki South to Meereen. Mainly three/fourths of the men will be going. Daenerys knew that she can't take all the Screamers, and to preserve the Dothraki populations while the women, elders, and youngest men remain in Vaes Dothrak, under the Dosh Khaleen rule.

She fiddles her twin ring that hung around her neck and turned to face Jorah. She was surprised that he was here. Wondering why he came to save her, instead of being with Alysanne remembering Jorah fighting in the Daznak Pit.

"Alysanne banished you, twice. You came back, twice. And you saved our lives." Daenerys said. "And I forgive you."

Jorah sighed in relief. Knowing in his betrayal was more towards Daenerys since he told Varys about her pregnancy. The reason why King Robert Baratheon sent more assassins after many years of silence. Daenerys stepped forward to give him a hug, however, Jorah stepped back. Daario also stepped in to stop her. The Mother of Dragons was confused, wondering why the man she saw as her friend and father figure pulled back.

"You must send me away," Jorah said.

"I don't understand," Daenerys said.

Jorah took a deep breath removing the bracer and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Greyscale. Showing how much the disease has spread. At this point, cutting his arm off was near impossible. Daenerys violet eyes widen as a gasp left her lips. Seeing his arm turning into stone.

"Is there a cure?" Daenerys asked.

"I don't know," Jorah answered sadly.

"How long does it take?" Daenerys asked.

"I don't know that, either," Jorah answered, fixing his shirt and bracer. "But I've seen what happens when it goes far enough. I'll end things before that."

"I'm sorry," Daenerys said, as tears fell. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Jorah assured. "All I ever wanted was to serve you girls. To bring you girls home. I know that is not possible now. But I promised Alysanne she will not sail alone…not without her sister."

Jorah eyes showed his pain and suffering, knowing he could never return to Westeros. Most importantly, to never be with the woman he loved either by serving her as a general or a lover. All that he knows is that Westeros will have a Queen and Princess who will do good for the realm.

"Goodbye, Khaleesi," Jorah said, as he turned around to leave.

A tear slid down her cheek, she refused to see Jorah giving up and die. She clenches her fists taking a deep breath, "Do not walk away from your princess, Jorah the Andal."

This surprised the knight as he turned around, facing her.

She walked over to him, though kept some distance, "You have not been dismissed. You pledged yourself to my family. You swore to obey our commands for the rest of your life. Well, I command you to find the cure, wherever it is in this world. I command you to heal yourself and then return. When Alysanne takes the Seven Kingdoms, she'll need you by her side."

The Exiled Knight nodded, feeling a sense of hope. Obeying to the blood of his blood, and princess, seeing that she believed in him. Seeing that she wanted him to be part of her life and more. Also, to see Alysanne again. They said their goodbyes, as Daenerys and Daario headed south to Meereen while Jorah took a different route. Both hoping for a better outcome.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

A simple casual report meeting was assembled in the solar room. Mainly gaining reports of what is happening to the city. It has been two weeks since making a deal with the Masters, and Falcons been arriving every other third day of how the cities fair.

"In the last fortnight since our pact with the Masters, how many killings have been carried out by the Sons of the Harpy?" Varys asked Grey Worm.

"None," Grey Worm asked.

"And how many Masters have been butchered by the Freemen?" Varys asked.

"Two, but that was the day of the pact," Grey Worm reported. "Since then, nothing."

Tyrion walked by with a glass of wine, which I allowed. He does much better without wine.

"So, it's safe to say that a fragile peace has taken hold," Varys concluded.

"For now," Grey Worm added.

"For now," is the best we get in our profession," Varys replied.

"Still, it confirms that they are supporting the Sons of the Harpy, and creating violent misunderstanding between the Masters and the Freemen," I said, taking a sip of tea.

"Considering the city was on the brink of civil war, I'd say it's a good start," Varys said.

"It's not enough for Meereen to have peace." Tyrion joined the conversation. "They need to know Alysanne is responsible for it. The Sons of the Harpy have a good story. Resist the foreign invaders. Our queen has an even better story. Dragoness of the West, Breaker of Chains, all that."

I chuckled slightly, knowing I have too many titles. Especially the conflict of using second or first of my name. Right now, I am the second of the name Alysanne, named after the Good Queen Consort, the wife of King Jaehaerys the first. Until I am anointed on the Iron Throne, I cannot be first of my name. So, I don't bother with that for now.

"The people know who brought them freedom," Missandei said.

"Yes, but do they know who brought them security?" Tyrion asked. "Who brought about an end to the violence? We need someone the people trust; someone they know cannot be bought or influenced."

"Sounds like quite the hero. Where would we find him?" Varys asked.

"Who said anything about 'him'?" Tyrion replied, taking a sip of wine.

"Care to explain," I said. "Not everyone can read your mind."

"Forgive me, since arriving in Meereen, there have been Red Priestess and Priestesses praising the Lord of Light and the Dragon Sisters. Encouraging the people of choice to fight for freedom in this darkest hour."

"The R'hllor religion? How many of those fanatics are here?" I asked.

"At least a dozen in Meereen that we are aware of," Ser Barristan answered.

I nodded, though slightly frowning. Don't take me wrong, I am tolerant towards other religions. However, something about the R'hllor faith bothers me. Many calling them fanatics, in how to devote they are in their faith, to the point of burning people alive to purify their souls in what they consider to be heresy. There were many things I don't consider from them, especially their requiting methods of purchasing child slaves and trained them to be either priest/priestess, warriors, and temple prostitutes. Let alone their ways of receiving word from their god by staring into the flames and receiving prophecies. Most prominent being the return of Azor Ahai. A common religion, but one I caution with since I am one with the Seven.

"I don't know about this," I confessed. "I don't want to associate myself with fanatics who burn people alive because of their beliefs."

"Well, they have been using your name in their sermons." Tyrion said. "One in Volantis saying you and Daenerys are the saviors, reborn from fire to remake the world."

"Terrific," I muttered. "Now the Septons will questions me."

Tyrion paused and looked at me, confused, "Your Grace, if you don't mind me asking. What is your religion?"

"The same religion as my mother, and many more since Aegon Conquest. The Faith of the Seven." I answered. "I do not want to be associated with a religion that…that buys child slaves and turn them into mindless fanatics."

"Still, the more they spread your message, the more security you have," Tyrion said.

"I test you on that," I said, not going to bother arguing. "Meet with the High Priestess in these parts. However, I caution you I will not convert to their faith. Nor will I have the dragons involved in their purification."

"Understood," Tyrion said, taking another sip of wine.

"If you'll excuse me, I will retire for the night," I announced standing up.

Everyone did the same as Missandei, and I left the solar lounge for my chamber. I need to get as much sleep as I can so I can continue my training with Visenya. My wounds were still healing, even if my arm was doing well, my back was taking longer. As it would be expected since I inherited the poor health from being a product of incest. There will be scars, but over the past month the stitching finally mended the skin. My training with Ser Barristan is on hold, and the dragon training limited in trying out Dragon spells Visenya taught me. Hopefully, by next week I can see if I can ride Viserion. Or at least climb on his back and see if he is comfortable.

**.o0o.**

_The Audience Chamber_

The next week Tyrion and Varys attended a meeting with one of the High Priestesses in the R'hllor faith. It was nighttime when two people in red enter the chamber. A man and a woman. The man stepped on the bottom platform, presenting the Light Wisdom. It was coincident that the High Priestess would be in Meereen instead of Volantis with other high-ranking leaders of the R'hllor, the Lord of Light.

_"You Stand in the presence of Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, the First Servant of the Lord of Light,"_ The priest introduced.

Varys and Tyrion nod their heads as a sign of respect. The Red Woman, stepped forward as her priest stepped down. She appeared to be in her thirties, a beautiful woman, with long hair the color of ebony, and pale, flawless skin. She was slender and graceful, an appearance no man could resist. Yet her unique feature was her amber eyes, that were piercing. Along her neck the bronze hexagon choker with a ruby center.

_"Welcome to Meereen_." Tyrion greeted, though was terrible. "That's about the extent of my Valyrian."

Kinvara stood there looking at him

Tyrion paused, wondering if he would have to ask Varys to be his translator since Missandei was occupied by tending to the Queen.

"Thank you for traveling all this way. I know from personal experience how uncomfortable the journey can be." Tyrion said glancing at Varys.

Kinvara stood there.

"The truth is we need your help. We had hoped that we could somehow persuade you too…"

"You don't need to persuade me. I came to help," Kinvara interrupted, breaking her silence. She lifted her skirt some, walking up the steps reaching the middle platform. "Alysanne Targaryen is the one who was promised. From the fire, she and her sister were reborn to remake the world."

"Yes," Tyrion said.

"She has freed the slaves from their chains and crucified the Masters for their sins." Kinvara continued.

"She did indeed," Tyrion confirmed.

"Her dragons are fire made flesh, a gift from the Lord of Light," Kinvara added. "But you heard all of this before, haven't you? On the Long Bridge of Volantis.

Tyrion didn't know how to respond to that.

"The dragons will purify nonbelievers by the thousands, burning their sins and flesh away," Kinvara promised.

"Ideally we'd avoid purifying to many nonbelievers," Tyrion said, remembering where the limit was. "The Dragoness of the West has followers of many different faiths."

"You want your queen to be worshipped and obeyed. And while she's recovering, you want her advisors to be worshipped and obeyed." Kinvara assumed.

"I'd settled for obeyed," Tyrion said.

Kinvara nodded, "I will summon my most eloquent priests. They will spread the word. Alysanne has been sent to lead the people against the darkness in this war, and in the great war still to come."

"That sounds most excellent," Tyrion agreed.

Varys stepped forward, having enough of this exchange. Over the years, he didn't mind Thoros of Myr, being a drunk fornicated priest. However, over the last five years, the R'hllor religion has caused trouble in Westeros. Inserting Stannis Baratheon into the war and burning countless people for a red priestess. Respecting his Queen of her religion and faith, and caution for the safety for the realm, he joined the conversation.

"A man named Stannis Baratheon was anointed as the chosen one by one of your priestesses. He, too, had a glorious destiny. He attacked King's Landing and was soundly defeated by the man standing beside me. Last I had heard, he had been defeated again, this time at Winterfell, and this time for good."

Tyrion stepped in fearing they will lose an ally, "We'd be most grateful for any support you could provide the queen."

"I suppose it's hard for a fanatic to admit a mistake," Varys challenged. "Isn't that the whole point of being a fanatic? You're always right. Everything is the Lord's will."

"Everything is the Lord's will," Kinvara said with a smile. Her amber eyes locked to his hazel orbs. "But men and women make mistakes. Even honest servants of the Lord."

"And you, an honest servant of the Lord, why should I trust you to know any more than the priestess who counseled Stannis?" Varys sarcastically asked.

"My friend has a healthy skepticism of religion, but we are all loyal supporters of the queen." Tyrion quickly recovers.

Varys nodded.

"Everyone is what they are, and where they are for a reason." Kinvara murmured, stepping up until she stood in front of Varys. Her eyes in a hypnotic trance to his. "Terrible things happen for a reason. Take what happened to you, Lord Varys, when you were a child. If not for your mutilation at the hand of a second-rate sorcerer, you wouldn't be here helping the Lord's Chosen bring his light into the world. Knowledge has made you powerful but there's still so much you don't know."

Varys frowned and Tyrion was cautious. Only three people knew how Varys was mutilated. Varys, the sorcerer, and Tyrion. No one else knows. Something entirely personal. A reason why Varys despises magic.

"Do you remember what you heard that night when the sorcerer tossed your parts in the fire? You heard a voice call out from the flames. Do you remember?" Kinvara asked. "Should I tell you what the voice said? Should I tell you the name of the one who spoke?

Kinvara rested her hand on the eunuch's arm. Varys soon became scared, having a flashback of that terrible night. Wondering how this woman knows how it happened. He shook his head, not wanting to hear the voice and its words. The words from a demon. Kinvara merely smiles.

"We serve the same queen," She said, still staring into his eyes. "If you are her true friend, you have nothing to fear from me."

She pulled her hand back and nodded to Tyrion before stepping down the marble steps. The two men stood there, bewildered in what has transpired. Ever since arriving in the Central Region of Essos, they have witness things that cannot be explained. Dragons, Stone Men, the Targaryen Sisters immunity to fire, and now… a clairvoyant Red Priestess. Tyrion understands now why Alysanne was cautious about them. However, the discussion has been done.

They can only hope this doesn't ruin the Queen's name.

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**A simple filler chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	48. Chapter 48: Touch the Sky

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Eragon.**_

_**Languages:**_

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 48: Touch the Sky**

_Alysanne's POV_

"Your Grace, I don't think it's wise for you to attempt riding the dragons," Ser Barristan advised. "The Blue Grace still says you need to recover."

Ser Barristan, Missandei, and I were making out way to the field where Viserion and Rhaegal were eating their latest meal. I was wearing my usual training clothes of leather pants, a tunic, and the Dothraki vest. I personally feel better, my left arm was healed with a rigged scar, while my back though still stitched up was now sealed and the inflammation now down.

"I'm not going to attempt of riding them," I assured Ser Barristan. "I'm going to see if Viserion is big enough to climb on and if he can handle my weight. The dragons have grown rapidly as of late."

Ser Barristan nodded. I understand he was concerned, especially with my family's genetics on health. However, I need to do this. There has been this pull going on the past couple of days. Even Viserion has been climbing on the pyramid, inserting his head into my apartment with longing. I have to admit, I missed his snuggles, or when he was small that he sat on my shoulder. Now that he was so big, something as to replace that closeness.

Once on the field, I walked over to the dragons. Viserion stopped eating, and his excitement took hold as he came across. He stopped right before me, lowering his head to my level. I cradle his face, kissing the top of his snout.

"Good morning to you too, my golden dragon." I murmured. "Are you ready for training."

Viserion nodded, as he nudged my stomach. I chuckled, leading the away from Rhaegal who was still eating his goat. Viserion lowered himself down. Carefully I climbed on top of his back, to the area where shoulders were along where Visenya instructed. The dragon started crawling around the field. I held on tight to his spikes like they were the horn and pommel of a saddle. He started moving fast, out of instincts. I pressed my thighs together.

"Easy," I murmured. "Slow. Take your time."

Viserion nodded as he continues to move to adjust to my weight on his back. I looked up seeing Ser Barristan on guard, ready to run to aid me if something happens. As if I was going to be bucked off from an untrained horse. Then again, a dragon is similar to a wild stallion. Missandei stood there, amazed as she smiled. After a while, Viserion stopped right in front of the two.

"You think he's ready to fly, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked.

"I believe so, but let's give him a few more days of me on his back to get accustomed," I answered.

"And Rhaegal? Will you ride Rhaegal?" Missandei asked.

I turned to the green dragon who was apparently asleep. I chuckled slightly for Rhaegal was still a cat in a sense.

"Unfortunately, no," I answered. "I bonded with Viserion as Daenerys did with Drogon. Rhaegal, he trusts us since we raised him since hatching. However, he is still a wild dragon. If I get on his back, he'll buck me off."

They nodded, understanding that Rhaegal, though trained to some degree, is still without a rider. He was even considered a wild dragon. I wonder if he'll ever have his own rider. There were not many Dragon Seeds out there. A Dragon Seed is what Queen Rhaenyra called people who were descendants from the Targaryen bloodline either through Targaryen women who married outside the family name or bastards. There were four known Dragon Seeds during the Dance of the Dragons. Hugh Hammer, a blacksmith bastard who bonded with Vermithor. Ulf the White, a man-at-arms, bonded with Silverwing. Addam of Hull, who was legitimized by Addam Velaryon who was a cousin to the Targaryens. And Nettles, who bonded with the wild dragon Sheepstealer…although, no one wants to talk about Nettle after the affair with Prince Aemond Targaryen, Queen Rhaenyra's husband. Let alone that she deserted during the war.

Over time and centuries of Targaryen women marrying other houses and men fornicating in brothels, I know there are more Dragon Seeds out there for Rhaegal. Most prominent, I believe to have a stronger bond is with the Martells. Since our relation as distant cousins go back to King Daeron the Second who married Princess Mariah Martell and his sister Princess Daenerys married Prince Maron Martell. Another possible Dragon Seed was in the Baratheons. I fear that if Stannis Baratheon is still alive and bonds with Rhaegal, it would be another Dance of the Dragons yet again.

Thinking about my distant cousins makes me wonder if Prince Doran received my letter. I sent a letter to him many months ago to forge an alliance. I promised that Elia Martell and children will be avenged, and the union between our two houses when his children and mine are of age. Based on Tyrion's knowledge, his two sons were too young for me. I mean, I'm almost twenty-four years old. As for Quentyn Martell was twenty, and his brother, Trystane was seventeen. Still, I'm not in a mood for marriage, not after Hizdahr zo Loraq and the man, Jorah, I love is dying. I'll have a word with Varys about this.

I was about to get off of Viserion except he adjusted his shoulder. I didn't think as much, than him stretching his muscles. So, I attempted to try again. Once more, he adjusted me back in place. Ser Barristan and Missandei noticed this as they stepped back not sure what the dragon was intending.

"Viserion," I gave an authority tone. "I will get down."

Viserion gave a scoff before turning towards the open field. Realizing what he was planning, I yelled in Valyrian for him to stop, using the dragonrider commands. The dragon disobeyed as he started running straight forward at the same time flapping his wings. I cursed trying once more to stop him, except he took off into the sky. I held on tight, knowing I have no choice by saying _Valahd_ connecting me to him to secure the sequence of flight.

Along with holding on tight to the spikes a surprised scream left my lips. At first, I thought it was of fear, until realizing it was shock when Viserion reached the level to soar through the sky. The wind blew through my hair. I cheered in excitement, holding for dear life. Never felt this excited in a long time.

_Feel how he moves, Alysanne,_ Visenya's voiced echoed in my head_. How he turns. When he accelerates._

"Come on!" I exclaimed. "Let's see what you got."

Viserion growled, flapping his wings and shot up to the sky. My body, out of impulse, grasped his neck and horns holding on tight. We crossed through the clouds until he let gravity drop his body and turn. When we were nearing the city, he pivots up securing to steady flight. I laughed petting his neck.

_When you're truly one, you can fight from everywhere even from the tail,_ Visenya explained.

I looked over my shoulder staring at Viserion's tail. It was almost straight though it moved. Although seeing the size of it, I doubt I could balance myself on it.

_Maybe not yet_, I thought.

_Maybe not yet,_ Visenya chuckled.

For the next hour, Viserion flew around Meereen and into the valleys. After the small demonstration of what he could do, he kept things smooth to make the flight more comfortable. By the time noon arrived, he had landed back on the field behind the Great Pyramid. It was a rough landing, but I managed to hold on until a complete stop. Once Viserion caught his bearings, I climbed down along his arm and onto the ground and fell onto my back laughing.

Ser Barristan and Missandei rushed in to see my condition only to find that I was perfectly fine.

"Your Grace," Missandei said, helping me up.

"I'm fine, although Viserion has completely ruins horses for me." I panted, catching my breath.

Viserion gave a dragon chuckle as well.

"You need to be careful, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.

I nodded, looking at my hands, seeing they were still locked from holding onto the spikes tightly. Viserion had control during the flight. Something we need to work on. But I understand he was trying to show me what he had in store. However, I fear I can't hold on every single time.

"I will have to customize a saddle for him," I thought aloud. "One that won't affect his movement at the same time keep me secured."

"Probably one with a harness," Ser Barristan suggested.

I nodded and petted Viserion, who purred to the touch. Although it was fun and exhilarating to fly in the sky for the first time, it shows I need to work on training Viserion to obey a command. He can't pull a stunt like that without the risk of me falling off. We need to be in sync. One mind when we fly.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys and Daario were leading the Dothraki through the Dothraki Sea, making the way to Meereen. They were nearing the border, but time was of the essence. A long week of traveling, although Daenerys has been hearing whispers of who will be her bloodrider. By tradition, a Khal has three bloodriders. She remembers Drogo's Three bloodrider being Qotho, Cohollo, and Haggo. She already has two bloodriders already from Aggo and Kovarro, although she still missed Rakharo. So how can she pick another bloodrider, when there is a hundred thousand right behind her?

Also, she needed to figure out a way to keep the Dothraki tradition but at the same time put an end to their customs of slavery, raids, and raping. If she promised them that, when they were meant to eventually sail to Westeros, Alysanne will have her head. She sighed, caressing the ring. Jorah told her Alysanne was alive, but injured. Knowing her sister's health isn't the best, she needed to be there as soon as possible. If the Sons of the Harpy know about Alysanne's condition, they will strike again.

Suddenly she felt a strong pull. She looked up ahead through the ravine, washing the wind toss the dirt and tumbleweeds. Daario noticed her stop and halted the Khalasar.

"Everything all right?" Daario asked.

"How many days' ride to Meereen?" Daenerys asked curiously.

Daario thought about it, "A week at best."

"How many ships will Alysanne and I need to bring my khalasar to Westeros?" she asked.

"The Dothraki and all their horses, the Unsullied, the Second Sons… a thousand ships easily. Probably more." Daario guessed.

"And who have that many ships?" she asked.

"Nobody," Daario answered.

"Nobody yet," she sighed.

"So, we ride for Meereen, and after that, we sail to Westeros. And what then?"

"Alysanne and I take what is ours."

"You weren't made to sit on a chair in a palace. Alysanne, maybe, but not you."

"What was I made for?"

"You're a conqueror, Daenerys Stormborn."

Daenerys thought about it when she felt the pull again. Now realizing what it was, it was the magic that binds her to Drogon. Her black dragon was near. A smile graced her lips, knowing Drogon should be in full recovery.

"Wait here," she told them.

She rode off ahead, leaving her army behind.

It took some time, but she managed to find Drogon resting on top of a mountain. Daenerys eyes widen in seeing how massive he has grown over what could possibly be two months. Far more massive than a war elephant. Basically, the size she imagines her ancestors rode. Drogon stirred from his slumber, tossing aside the carcass of what appeared to be a cow. He lifted his head and tilted it, giving what could possibly be a smile. Something that reminded her of her late husband.

She got off her white horse and climbed over to him, "My sweet thing, you have grown."

Drogon nodded.

She came over examining him, seeing the wounds on his wings were healed or small enough that it wouldn't affect his flying. She patted his neck, which the dragon purred. So many thoughts were lingering in her head. Thinking about what Daario said, that she can be more than just a princess. She already proved herself to be a Great Khaleesi, but can being a princess in Westeros be enough for her? Alysanne by birthright is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, even when Daenerys has a claimant, it's not enough to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Also, her thirst for adventure and freedom.

The lifestyle of Essos, the slavery that continues outside of Slaver's Bay. The unknown lands the world has never seen. Along with her army. The Dothraki were nomadic, they never stay in one place too long. They can never be domesticated. So, would she change them to take back the Iron Throne and avenge her family or once that is done send them back to Essos to start over again? Does she want to be a princess, knowing that she will never sit on the Iron Throne or be a conqueror just like Alysanne and Aegon? Valuing her sister, she would never go against her.

So many options.

She stood there, thinking as her hands continue to pet Drogon. She controls her own destiny. Once the decision was made, she kissed Drogon's cheek before climbing on top of the black dragon. This time the dragon complied. Grabbing hold of the spikes, she whispers "_Valahd_." Linking her to Drogon as they took to the sky.

The wind blew through her hair, as a sense of freedom took hold. The excitement and the adrenaline soaring through her veins. Spotting the Horde, Drogon gave a shriek catching their attention, flying above them. They landed in front of the horde, starling the men and horses. Drogon lowered his neck, revealing his rider. Daenerys took a deep breath and gave her speech.

**"Every khal who ever lived chose three bloodriders to fight beside him and guard his way. But I am not a khal. I will not choose three blood riders. I choose you all."**

The Dothraki screamers cheered.

**"I will ask more of you than any khal has ever asked of his khalasar! Will you ride the wooden horses across the black salt sea? Will you kill my enemies in their iron suits and tear down their stone houses? Will you give my family the Seven Kingdoms, the gift Khal Drogo promised me before the Mother of Mountains? Are you with me?"**

The Dothraki cheered agreeing to her.

**"Now and always!"**

Daenerys smiled, seeing their excitement. Drogon sensing the pride of his rider gave a battle roar. She knew she will always be a princess; however, she is forever a Khaleesi and will die a khaleesi.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	49. Chapter 49: The Second Siege of Meereen

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones **_

* * *

**Chapter 49: The Second Siege of Meereen**

_The Eunuch and the Dwarf._

Varys stood in front of Alysanne as she spoke to Missandei in Dothraki who wrote the letter in another language. Isolating the Spider, since he did not speak the Dothraki language. He tried to glance at the letter and noticed it was written in another language as well. Not in Valyrian or Common Tongue. The Spider had to give the Queen credit to not trust everyone. Especially him, even though he believes Alysanne will do much more good for the realm than the Lannisters. When the letter was finished, Alysanne signed it off, applying the drying powder, and sealed in. A black and red wax with a seal of a three-headed dragon.

She grabbed the letter and handed it to Varys, "This must be delivered to the Prince of Dorne. Personally. Can I trust you on this personal mission?"

"Of course, Your Grace," Varys assured accepting the letter.

Alysanne gave a calculating if not questionable look. Varys knows the Queen doesn't trust him. How could she when he served the two families who murdered her family. He did explain that when Tywin Lannister and his army stood outside King's Landing, he advised King Aerys the Second to not open the gates. It earned some respect but not enough to gain the queen's trust. So now Varys is on a secret mission to forge many alliances with Dorne, House Velaryon, House Celtigar, House Darry, and other potential allies.

Giving a courteous farewell, Varys left the royal study and made way to the docks. Tyrion decided to join him as they walked through the city. Meereen was active again much more so than it was a few months ago after the attack of the Daznak Pit. There was double the Unsullied patrols on the streets, yet the people were vibrant. All different classes socializing not realizing a year ago there were two groups, the Masters and the slaves. It reminded Tyrion of King's Landing before Joffrey fucked it up.

In one of the squares that was selling grains and other merchandise stood an R'hllor priestess. Everyone who was interested gathered around as the young priestess gave her prayers.

"From the fire, they were reborn to remake the world. Alysanne and Daenerys is a gift from the Lord of Light to the children. If we are too steadfast in our love for the Queen and her faithful advisors, no man will ever lock us in chains again."

Tyrion spotted this and smile, "I'd call that a successful gambit."

"Would you?" Varys asked, still cautious. He does not like magic, and from what his little birds have told him, these fanatics, shadow binders' fiddle in the same dark arts as the second-hand sorcerer who emasculated him. And what Kinvara said, brought terrible memories of that night.

"Look around. The city has come back to life." Tyrion reasoned.

"You made a pact with fanatics," Varys said.

"I did, and it worked," Tyrion replied.

"If you shaved your beard with a straight razor, you'd say the razor worked. That doesn't mean it won't cut your throat." Varys inquired.

"Spoke like a man who has never had to shave," Tyrion jest.

Varys snorted. The two come at the entrance for the docks.

"I'm going to miss you," Tyrion said.

"I know," Varys agreed.

"I hope you're right about this expedition of yours. "

"If I don't return, you'll know I was wrong."

Tyrion shook his head. Having a feeling, Westeros will be heavily guarded than it used to be. The world knows that Varys helped smuggled Tyrion out of King's Landing before his execution. However, when Tyrion killed his father, he had unintentionally made Varys an accomplice. Varys noticed the dwarfs concern.

"We need friends in Westeros," Varys explained. "And we need ships."

"Most of all, we need our queen."

"She is recovering well. She has faith in her sister to return. My heart's been broken too many times already." Varys said and patted Tyrion's shoulder. "I'll walk the rest of the way myself. I can't go off on a secret mission in the company of the most famous dwarf in the city."

The Spider began to walk.

Tyrion smiled, calling out, "Varys."

The Spymaster topped looking at his friend.

"The most famous dwarf in the world." Tyrion corrected.

Varys smiled giving the nod before leaving Meereen. Tyrion stood there, watching his friend's departure before returning back to the Great Pyramid. Just as he was about to go inside, he heard roaring. Curious, he went to investigate finding the dragons were out in the field for their daily training. He heard from Ser Barristan that Viserion decided to take the Queen flying without consent. The Small Council was concerned until Alysanne returned laughing like a child riding a horse for the first time.

Now he saw Alysanne shouting in ancient Valyrian, the language of the dragonlords as Viserion and Rhaegal control their flames. Tyrion stood there fascinated, seeing the dragons so close and personal. All his life he wanted a dragon of his own, or to see a dragon. When he saw Drogon in Valyria what he thought were lies were the truth, when he saw Drogon and Viserion defend their riders and the black dragon taking Daenerys away, he saw legends come alive. Now…he stood amazed in seeing these creatures who were supposed to be extinct.

After a while, Alysanne finished her daily lesson. She walked over to a table, pouring herself a glass of water. Staring up, she noticed Tyrion on the balcony and gestured him over. Tyrion a bit timid about the Dragon Queen came down. They were not the best of terms, and the dwarf has been trying to rectify that. It's just his mouth runs ahead before he thinks. The queen was smart, probably smarter than Cersei, yet she does have issues. Not that he could blame her, after what his family did to her father and…sister-in-law, niece, and nephew.

"Your Grace," Tyrion greeted.

"Has Varys reached his ship?" Alysanne asked.

"Yes, he has, Your Grace," Tyrion answered.

"Good," Alysanne said. "In a year or two, we can make arrangements for King's Landing."

Tyrion nodded and glanced at the dragons. Rhaegal was stretching his wings while Viserion was staring at them. A very protective look. Reminded him many times when a patriarch of a House sees him flirting with one of his daughters. A promise of pain and death. The dwarf gulped.

"Don't mind Viserion, he's just overprotective," Alysanne chuckled.

"I can see that," Tyrion grumbled.

"Care to touch them?" she offered.

This caught the dwarf off guard, "I don't believe that is wise."

"I see that look of curiosity. Come, I'll show you how to address a dragon." Alysanne said leading the way to Viserion though stopped at a distance. Tyrion followed standing beside her. "Now, dragons are very proud creatures. Very easily offended, you do not want to insult a dragon. It may just be the last thing you ever do."

Tyrion nodded, knowing that from books.

"Since I was there since his draglet stage, I am pardoned from the greeting. This is what you have to do to earn his trust. You have to let him make the first move. It's only polite to step up gradually. Give a slight bow, then you wait and see if he bows back. If he does, raise your hand and he will let you touch him. If not…well, I hope you are a good runner."

Tyrion snapped a questionable look wondering if the queen was joking or not. He recalled Ser Jorah approaching the golden dragon during the Daznak Pit attack. Jorah lowering his sword, in a movement that seemed like a bow, while keeping a hand up. Viserion stepping forward, sniffing his hand before allowing the Exiled Knight to collect the injured queen.

Slowly, Tyrion walked forward, then stopped, giving a bow. Viserion gave a growl curling his lips, exposing his teeth.

"Slow, low," Alysanne instructed from behind. "Keep still."

Tyrion looked up, seeing Viserion crawling closer until he bowed his head.

"All right, lift your hand very slowly," Alysanne instructed again. "And don't move afterward. Let him come to you."

The dwarf did so and waited. The golden dragon's nostrils flared as he came closer. Tyrion felt his heart beating rapidly. Wondering what the dragon would think of him. Praying the dragon doesn't eat him. Although it would be one fascinating way to die. Viserion reached his hand and sniffed it. Amber eyes glaring at green eyes. What could possibly feel like forever in a mere minute, the dragon pressed the tip of his snout against Tyrion's hand.

The Lannister's eyes widen, he was touching a dragon for the very first time. Even with the warm climate, the dragon's scales felt cold, patches of leather, almost like lizard-lion skin. Viserion puffed a bit of smoke that caused the Lannister to cough pulling back. For a moment he thought he heard the dragon chuckling in a sense. Before Tyrion could touch him again, Viserion walked away, joining Rhaegal.

"Well, if anything were to happen to me, you know what to do," Alysanne said.

Tyrion nodded still bewildered on the fact he petted a dragon.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I was in the solar lounge with Grey Worm and Missandei. They were giving their usual reports telling me how Meereen was doing. Ser Barristan took a seat as we casually talked. I was impressed that Tyrion's method of recruiting the R'hllor worshipers has done for the city. Everything seemed to be peaceful if not more. Then again, the Unsullied has arrested more Sons of the Harpy, those in possession of golden mask. Investigations are being set, and once we get enough evidence there will be a trial.

Soon the reports finished and we just casually talked when Tyrion came in with a smile on his face. After petting Viserion, he was utterly happy. He gave his greeting and poured himself some wine to join our conversation. Since he figured out this wasn't a Small Council Meeting.

"You seem happy," Missandei noted.

"I am happy," Tyrion agreed, as he stood up walking over to the bar pouring two more glasses of wine. "You all should be happy as well. Not so long ago, this city was ready to devour itself. Now it's like a man reborn."

"I will be happy when Daenerys returns," I said.

"Why don't you drink? Why don't either of you drink?" Tyrion asked Missandei and Grey Worm.

"Unsullied never drink," Grey Worm answered.

"Why not?" Tyrion asked.

"Rules," Grey Worm answered.

"And who made these rules? Your former masters?" Tyrion asked.

The dwarf has a good point. I do not hold strict rules when the Unsullied are not on their shift. They are free to drink during their leisure time. Only when they are on patrol or a battle stirring, do I need them to have a sound mind.

"Those miserable old shits didn't want you to be human," Tyrion said, handing the two chalices to both former slaves. "Have a drink with me."

Grey Worm accepts, he brought the glass up to his nose and wrinkle at the smell.

"And you? What's your excuse?" Tyrion asked Missandei, handing her the chalices.

"I have tried wine before. It made me feel funny," Missandei answered.

"That's how you know it's working," Tyrion said, pouring to more chalices and handed it to Ser Barristan and me. He then lifted his own chalice, "Here's to our own queen. Anyone not drinking is disrespecting our queen."

We all raised our glasses.

"To Alysanne Targaryen, Dragoness of the West, Breaker of Chains, long may she reign." Tyrion toasted.

"Long may she reign," everyone repeated.

We took a sip of wine. I wasn't in the mood for wine, yet took a tiny sip. Tasting that it was very dry, even though it was a liquid. Tyrion gulped all his. Ser Barristan taking a sip. Missandei tasted it; meanwhile Grey Worm cringed.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"Tastes like it has turned," Grey Worm answered, setting his glass on the table.

"Yes, yes. Fermentation." Tyrion explained as he fetched more wine from another table. "One day, after our queen has taken the Seven Kingdoms, I'd like to have my own vineyard. Make my own wine. The Imp's Delight. Only my close friends could drink it."

"I thought the Westerlands were more forest, mountains, and coast. Not fertile enough for vineyards," I said.

"It's not," Tyrion said. "But I don't think I'll ever be Lord and Warden of Casterly Rock."

"Isn't that the reward you want?" I asked.

Tyrion arched a brow. I thought that is what he wanted as his reward in helping me reclaim my home. To claim his birthright that Lord Tywin has denied him over the years.

He changed the subject, "Tell me a joke, Missandei of Naath."

This caught the Naathi off guard, "I do not know any jokes."

Tyrion returns to his chair. "Grey Worm?"

Grey Worm gave him a blank look.

"Right." Tyrion sighed, then told his joke. "Three lords walk into a tavern. A Stark, a Martell and a Lannister. They order ale, but when the barkeeper brings them over, each of them finds a fly in his cup. The Lannister, outraged, shoves the cup aside and demands another. The Martell plucks the fly out and swallows it whole. The Stark reaches into his cup, pulls out the fly and shouts, 'Spit it out, your wee shit. Spit it out.'"

I couldn't help but laugh at it, mainly how terrible his Northern accent was. Ser Barristan chuckled, shaking his head. Meanwhile, Missandei and Grey Worm sat there not getting the joke. Right, cultural differences.

"It's funnier in Westeros," Tyrion muttered.

"The Starks and the Lannisters, I thought these were enemies," Grey Worm said.

"Yes," Tyrion confirmed.

"A joke is like a story, _Torgo Nudho_," Missandei explained. "Not a true story, necessarily."

"A story that's supposed to make you laugh ideally," Tyrion agreed. "Not at the moment, perhaps."

Missandei continued to drink the wine.

"Missandei, do you like the wine?" I asked.

"I do," Missandei answered with a nod.

"Tell a joke," Tyrion insisted.

Missandei paused, thinking of one, "Two translators are on a sinking ship. The first says, 'Do you know how to swim?' The second says, 'No, but I can shout for help in nineteen languages.'"

Tyrion and I gave a forced laugh. Ser Barristan merely smiled, while Grey Worm gave a strange look. Missandei smiled, taking another sip of wine. She giggled as well. If I didn't know any better, I take it, my confidant is a light drinker.

"That is the worst joke I ever heard," Grey Worm said.

"You don't even know what a joke is," Missandei replied.

"I am soldier all my life. You think I never hear joke?" Grey Worm asked, a slight hint of sarcasm.

"You lied to us," Tyrion pointed his finger at the Unsullied.

"I make joke," Grey Worm said, a slight smile.

Everyone chuckled or laughed at his innocence. Grey Worm, smiled, more at listening to Missandei giggles. Got to admit, my Commander was infatuated, if not possibly in love with Missandei of Naath. It pleases me over the year how much these two have changed. No longer guarded or secured to the discipline of behavior.

"More jokes!" Missandei cheered. "Your Grace, you must know one."

I paused, trying to think of one, "Well, I do know one when I was in Lys. The lookout sees a pirate ship sailing their way. The captain shouts to his first mate, "Bring me my red shirt." The first mate brings the red shirt, and the captain puts it on, and when the pirates try to board, the brave captain leads his men to victory. A few days later, the lookout screams, "Two pirate ships!" The crew is shivering like scared mice. But the courageous captain hollers, "Bring me my red shirt!" After the battle, the first mate asks, "Captain, why do you call for your red shirt before battle?" The captain replies, "So that if I am stabbed, you will not see me bleed." The next morning the lookout screams, "Ten pirate ships! We are surrounded!" The crew goes silent. They all look to their brave captain, waiting for his usual command. Calm as ever, the captain bellows - "Bring me my brown pants!""

Tyrion and Ser Barristan burst out laughing. Missandei giggled as well, almost spitting her wine out into her glass. Grey Worm, for the first time ever, made a snort like a laugh. I laughed, joining in, enjoying these simple moments. If only Daenerys, Ser Jorah, and Daario were here. I'm sure the Tyroshi has excellent jokes to share.

"You have a crude mind, I would never have thought the Queen would know a pirate joke," Tyrion said.

"Been traveling all my life, I come across a pirate or two over the years. How do you think my siblings and I were smuggled around Essos?" I murmured, taking a sip of wine.

Tyrion nodded, "I once walked into a brothel with a honeycomb and a jackass. The madam says…"

Suddenly the bells started ringing. We listen to the pitch, hearing it be higher than usual. Invasion by sea. Grey Worm shot up running out of the room, giving the command to his soldiers. Missandei, Ser Barristan, and I stood up and follow suit, making way to the balcony to see what was happening. There along the bay were hundreds of Slaver's Ships. Staring at the sails between Volantis and Yunkai.

"The Masters have come for their property," Missandei growled.

I turned to Ser Barristan, who looked at me a nodded. "You gave them a chance, and they decided."

I took a deep breath, "The Masters have chosen Fire and Blood."

Not facing Tyrion, I marched my way back to the Great Pyramid to address the Unsullied Officers. Immediately I ordered that people in the docking district be evacuated. The Unsullied Officer in charge of that sector nodded, left to give the order and guide the evacuation. Grey Worm, Ser Barristan and I started going over plans to address the Sons of the Harpy and Masters.

A few hours later, the enemy was using trebuchets and catapults to throw projectiles drenched in oil lit on fire. The fishermen district was on fire along with others by the bay. In the council room, we deliberated.

Lord Tyrion and Missandei enter the room.

"I was wrong. I admit it." Tyrion started.

"That changes nothing," Missandei said.

"The Unsullied couldn't mount a defense off the beachhead," Tyrion suggested. "If the slavers' forces…"

"No more talking from you," Grey Worm barked. "You're talking gave us this."

"And I have acknowledged that. I'm trying…"

"You're trying to tell me what the army should do. You do not know what the army should do." Grey Worm shot him down.

"All right, what should the army do?" Tyrion asked.

"We'll not go to the beach," Grey worm planned. "If we go to the beach, the Masters will take the pyramid. The pyramid is the only place in the city we can defend. We stay here?"

"And then?" Ser Barristan asked.

"We wait for them to come to us. Then we fight them." Grey Worm answered.

"It does not protect the people. We need to evacuate the city from the Westside to the Eastside," Ser Barristan advised. "Secured the other gates that way, they only have one entrance."

"Agreed," I said.

A crashing sound could be heard as a projectile struck the top of the pyramid. I told everyone to leave except for Ser Barristan and Tyrion. I glared at the Lannister since I took his advice on discussing truce and offering them new terms. Terms that could have made things easier for the Masters. Now, they choose violence.

"Despite appearances, I think you'll find the city's on the rise," Tyrion said.

Another projectile stuck the pyramid.

"Perhaps we should take shelter," Tyrion advised, panicking.

"The city's on the rise?" I asked.

"Meereen is strong," Tyrion answered. "Commerce has returned to the markets. The people are behind you." Another projectile struck the pyramid. "Well, not all the people, of course. No ruler that ever lived had the support of all the people. But the rebirth of Meereen is the cause of this violence."

Another projectile struck the pyramid.

Ser Barristan and I stood there looking at him. Tyrion walked over.

"The Masters cannot let Meereen succeed. Because if Meereen succeeds, a city without slavery, a city without Masters…It proves that no one needs a Master."

I stared into his green eyes, seeing he was telling the truth. Seeing he wasn't trying to sabotage my reign.

"Good. Shall we begin?" I said.

Tyrion was baffled, "Do we have a plan?"

"One plan is to crucify the Masters. I will set their fleets afire, kill every last one of their soldiers, and return their cities to the dirt. The plan I promised them when I sieged Astapor and Yunkai. But that is one, which you both don't approve."

Tyrion shook his head, "You once told me you know what your father was. Did you know his plans for King's Landing when the Lannisters armies were at his gates?"

I did not answer for it was something I wanted to know since learning about Ser Jaime Lannister murdering my father. All I ever wanted was to know why the knight betrayed my father. Why he broke his vows. My father was Mad, I will not deny that. However, something must've happened to lead towards this betrayal.

"Probably not," Tyrion sighed, "Well, he told my brother, and Jaime told me. He had caches of wildfire hidden under the Red Keep, the Guildhalls, the Sept of Baelor, all the major thoroughfares. He would have burned every one of these citizens. The loyal ones and the traitors. Every man, woman, and child. That's why Jaime killed him."

This new information terrified me in the level of madness my father succumbed to. All the paranoia, the jealousy, the attempts on his life after Duskendale, and the sorrows of my siblings who died in infancy or miscarried. I thought that lead him to madness. Now to hear Tyrion tell me the level of degree that my father was to burn his city to the ground. It is something I could not do. That is why what I suggested was one of many concepts.

"That plan you suggested, about destroying cities. It's not entirely different." Tyrion said. "I'd like to suggest an alternate approach."

A projectile shot through the windows destroying everything in its wake. Ser Barristan covered me from debris and others. We stood up, looking at the damages.

"There will still be Fire and Blood," I said. "The question being by land or sea."

The two men nodded as we discuss a plan. The Unsullied will continue the evacuation and deal with any sons of the Harpy who will take this invasion as a distraction to attack innocent civilians. We will assemble a gathering to talk about the surrender. If the Three Masters do not surrender, I unleashed the dragons onto the Slaver's fleet. I am a forgiving person, allowing second and third chances based on the situation. However, I cannot forgive the Masters for this.

Leaving the chambers, I made way to change out of my gowns into something appropriate for flying. However, Ser Barristan stopped me leading the way to another room.

"I have something for you," Ser Barristan said. "It's not complete, but I rather you be protected now than exposed."

We enter a room where a mannequin stood wearing armor. Although, this was no ordinary armor. It was suitable for a female figure. I walked over to it, seeing the designs and craftsmanship. The breastplate on top of a corset form underneath made of black leather, while on dark tinted steel decorated in dragons. A scalemail skirt and red etched spaulder forged like with removable rondels that had the three-headed dragons. Especially the spaulder held resemblance to a dragon fin. I turned around facing Ser Barristan.

"For me?" I asked.

"Yes, similar to Rhaegar's but more practical to your figure and dueling," Ser Barristan said. "The rest is still being forged as we speak. I was hoping to give this to you when we set sail."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, your grace. Although, this time, you will be wearing chain and scalemail." He said with a smile.

I chuckled slightly, knowing gold scalemail is not the same as steel. Missandei was summoned as she helped me privately put on the armor. As I wore a padded tunic, leather trousers, and boots underneath, then the chainmail tunic, followed by the armor. Along with wearing the Unsullied bracers, and had my hair braided for battle.

I stared at myself in the mirror, for a second, I thought I saw Visenya until realizing the person in the mirror was me. Although the armor is incomplete, I know it will protect me. Grabbing hold of the Targaryen sword and securing it to the belt, I stared at Missandei who nodded.

.**o0o**.

The Three Masters accepted the terms outside the city away from the invasion by morning. There stood center Razdal mo Eraz, along with Yezzan zo Qaggaz and Lord Belicho Paenymion. Behind them was their soldiers. For my party on each side were Tyrion and Ser Barristan on my right and Missandei and Grey Worm on my left, with armored Unsullied at the ready.

"Once before, I offered you peace," Razdal said. "If you had not been so arrogant, you could have returned to your homeland with a fleet of ships. Instead, you will fee Slaver's Bay on foot, like the beggar queen you are."

I kept a neutral face looking at him in the eyes.

"We are here to discuss terms of surrender, not trade insults," Tyrion said.

"The terms are simple," Yezzan replied, arms crossed. "You and your foreign friends will abandon the Great Pyramid and the city of Meereen. The Unsullied you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The translator you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The dragons beneath the Great Pyramid will be slaughtered."

"We obliviously didn't communicate clearly," I replied, resting my left hand on the Targaryen sword's pommel. "We're here to discuss your surrender, not mine."

The three masters chuckled.

"I imagine it's difficult adjusting to the new reality," Razdal said.

"Your father adjusted just fine to the new reality. Shame that he has you for a son." I countered.

Razdal glared at me, "Your reign is over."

"My reign has just begun," I murmured.

Mentally I summoned for Viserion through the dragon bond. A shriek could be heard as it caught the Masters attention. Suddenly Viserion appeared soaring to the sky starling the invaders. He flew over us, until landing on the fortress roaring his fury before jumping down to land behind me. The Slavers were shocked stumbling back.

"_Zaldrīzes dohaeriros iksos daor, (A dragon is not a slave_)" I said in high Valyrian not low Valyrian and added. "Nor are humans a slave. You have woken the dragon."

I walked over to Viserion, climbing on top of his arm until securing myself onto his neck and back. I whispered _Valahd_, syncing our minds together before he took off, knocking down a few of the Slaver's soldiers. It was clear the Slavers' will not change. To spare the cities, I will show the Masters a demonstration in what I mean by Fire and Blood. Viserion flew through the sky across Meereen, showing Sons of the Harpy were causing chaos in the streets and emergency gates. The Unsullied and Second Sons were out exterminating the Harpies. This time I will not be taking any prisoners. Forgiveness has been overused, and in times of siege, it's best to get rid of the enemy. Viserion flew over Rhaegal as he looked up. Viserion roared at him, in their communication Rhaegal complied as he took to the sky and we went straight to the bay.

Hundreds of ships were there as the trebuchets launched fiery projectiles onto the city. Noticing that not all the ships have the trebuchets and catapults, I guided Viserion to the ships that do. The sailors and soldiers looked up terrified. I took a deep breath, "_Dracarys_!"

Viserion took a deep breath and blew fire on the ships. My stomach tightens, watching countless men burn by dragon fire. But as Ser Barristan has stated, those who follow the Masters must suffer the consequences of their decisions. The men screamed and cried, jumping overboard to extinguish the flames that caught them. Instead of destroying the ship, I showed some mercy and focused on the weapons that were destroying the city. I will need the ships.

Rhaegal mimicked Viserion by burning ships with the catapults and trebuchets only. Both dragons maneuvering around the launch projectiles and giving the definition of Fire and Blood.

**.o0o.**

_Meanwhile at the fortress._

The Masters watched the two dragons terrorizing the fleet, destroying those firing projectiles. The soldiers were shocked, petrified that their comrades were being burned alive. Grey Worm, the Commander of the Unsullied, stepped forward addressing the Slaver soldiers.

_"You men have a choice: fight and die for masters who would never fight and die for you, or go home to your families."_ Grey Worm offered.

Soldiers looked at each other, not second-guessing, dropped their swords and ran away. The Three Masters stood there abandoned, facing the Unsullied and the Small Council.

"Thank you for the Armada. Our queen does love ships," Tyrion said. "Now, last time we spoke, we made a pact. You violated that pact. You declared war upon us. Though our queen does have a forgiving nature, this cannot be forgiven."

"Our queen insists that one of you must die as punishment for your crimes," Missandei informed.

Tyrion walked over some, "It always seems a bit abstract, doesn't it? Other people dying?"

Razdal and Belicho stared at each other, before grabbing Yezzan and shoved the slave trader forward.

"Him. He should die," Razdal said.

"Yes, him." Belicho agreed.

"He's not one of us," Razdal added. "He's an outsider, a lowborn. He does not speak for us."

Grey Worm marched forward, his hands behind his back. Yezzan looked at the Commander of the Unsullied as if he was staring into Death himself. Already betrayed by his partners.

"Please," Yezzan begged, falling to his knees. "Please."

Grey Worm locked eyes with Yezzan, grabbing his dagger and slit Belicho and Razdal's throats in one swoop. The two Masters gasped, touching their necks as blood splattered, before falling to the ground. The Unsullied secured his bloody dagger and adjusted his doublet while keeping eye contact. Afterward, steps backwards, joining his comrades. Yezzan knelt there confused as to what just happened. He thought he was going to die, instead of the men who betrayed him did.

Tyrion came forward, resting his hand on the startled man, "Tell your people what happened here. Tell them you live by the grace of Her Majesty. When they come forward with notions of retribution or ideas about returning the slave cities to their former glory, remind them what happened, when the Dragon Sisters and their dragons came to Meereen. Remind them of Alysanne Targaryen's chances of mercy."

Tyrion patted Yezzan zo Qaggaz on the shoulder before walking away. Grey Worm, Ser Barristan, and Missandei followed, along with the rest of the Unsullied who collected the swords. Yezzan realized there is no point in fighting against the Targaryens. The Valyrian Freehold came for the sixth time and put an official end to the Ghiscari practice of slavery.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

Only when the dragons destroyed the trebuchets and a few dozens of their ships, did the Masters armada surrender. White flags raised while the crew fell to their knees dropping any weapons they have on their person. Following the code of honor to surrender, I guided Viserion back to Meereen with Rhaegal in pursuit. The dragons flew over the city, seeing countless Sons of the Harpy lying dead in the streets thanks to the Unsullied and Second Sons. There were damages, as fires spread. The people rushing in to put out the flames.

If the plan works out, this will be the Slavers last and final attack on Meereen. Viserion continued to fly over the city until reaching the Great Pyramid field. The Unsullied marched closer though distant to keep me safe from any surprise attack. Patting Viserion on the neck on a good job, he nodded going back to the air to keep guard. The Unsullied then escort me back to the Great Pyramid, where it was safe.

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**Alysanne's armor is inspired towards Alice's in Alice in Wonderland, only it is dark steel with red accents. Tyrion petting Viserion is inspired by Harry Potter Movie number 3.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	50. Chapter 50: The Dragons Reunited

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: So, on May 19, 2019, the last episode of Game of Thrones, the Series Finale, and the Song of Ice and Fire has come to an end. Almost a decade George R.R. Martin's books have come alive onto our television, inspiring many people and breaking the fantasy tropes. My heart breaks as does many. To anyone who has seen the episode, please not spoil it during the review incase of future readers check the reviews.**_

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**Chapter 50: The Dragons Reunited**

A hundred and twenty ships. A hundred and twenty ships that I have collected from the Masters' attempt of sieging Meereen. It was a hundred and fifty, but I was courteous by letting ten ships go to the soldiers who did surrenders can go home and tell Astapor, Yunkai, and Volantis on what happened here. Let them know, I am not giving any more chances. I will use Fire and Blood the next time they violate the truce. Meanwhile, the twenty were not salvageable from the dragons' fire.

Ser Barristan was proud of me about my restraint. How I ensured the Unsullied and the Second Sons took care of the Sons of the Harpy. The insurgents tried to massacre innocent people who lived by the gate, yet my men took care of that. Unfortunately, it doesn't resolve that three hundred innocent people were dead either by the Harpies, projectiles, or the fires. After two days of going over the collateral damage, an open funeral service at the Temple of the Graces was held to pay respect.

By now Varys would still be sailing to Westeros. He will head to Dorne first, delivering the letter to Prince Doran. I made it a test to see where the Spider's loyalties lie. For when Missandei and I written the letter I had my translator write it in Rhoyanar language and calligraphy while I spoke to her in Dothraki. Along with a special powder on top that if the seal was broken and the person touches the paper will show the prints based on the oils of the persons fingers. So, if Varys did try to read the letter, then hand it to Prince Doran it shows the Spider is not worth trusting. Allowing Prince Doran to see fit of a punishment. Including negotiations of terms of justice for his family and possibly marital alliances between my future children and his grandchildren.

It would be three days when a falcon arrived from the border. Sighting of Drogon and a Horde of Dothraki were making their way to Meereen. Two months it has been since Drogon has been seen, but a Horde as well. Ever since I conquered Slaver's Bay, there hasn't been a Dothraki Horse here to challenge me or tried to exchange slaves for provisions or gold. Out of a precaution, I told the Unsullied and the Second Sons to prepare for the Horde securing the city gates. Remembering Jorah talking about Khal Temmo and his Khalasar of 20,000 riders tried to sack the Free City of Qohor. It took 3,000 Unsullied to defeat the Temmo and his men. Maybe I am paranoid, but I rather we are prepared in case it was a coincidence that Drogon and the Dothraki were spotted.

Getting on Viserion, I went to investigate what is going on. If this were a coincidence, I would scare the Dothraki away by burning the area around them. If it is what I think it is, Daenerys has a lot of explaining to do. Viserion flew North, about fifty miles outside of Meereen, when a black mass came passing towards us. Looking over my shoulder, to see Drogon and something white on his back. Drogon turned around making way and hover before Viserion. There on his back was Daenerys.

"Dany!" I called out.

"Alys!" she shouted back with a grin.

We commanded the Dragons to land. Once we were on the ground, we ran towards each other then held each other in a firm embrace. I've been worried sick about her for months. Wondering where Drogon took her, if she was alive, if she was captured. Daenerys held the same regard, although her grip on me was tight pressing into my healing wound, causing me to gasp. She immediately pulled back.

"Are you all right?" She asked.

"Yeah, my back is still recovering from its injury," I answered. I cradle her cheek getting a better look of her. Seeing she was in perfect health, not any cuts or bruises. I sighed in relief and held her again. She hugged back, only this time gently. "Where did you go? Where is Daario Naharis? Where is Jorah?"

"Daario is leading my khalasar south to Meereen," Daenerys said.

"So, you're the horde that's coming," I sighed in relief. "For a moment I thought I was dealing with another siege."

"Another siege?" she asked.

"Yes, the Masters of Yunkai, Astapor, and a Lord from Volantis tried to attack Meereen," I answered.

Daenerys eyes widen, "Is everyone safe?"

I sighed, "Three hundred subjects are dead. Razdal mo Eraz is dead, Lord Belicho Paenymion is dead, and probably a hundred or two of their soldiers. I wasn't really counting when Viserion and Rhaegal were burning their fleet."

"How many ships did you collect?"

"A hundred and twenty." I sighed, feeling exhausted, not having much sleep the last couple of days. "Let's return to Meereen and talk there."

Daenerys nodded since it was never safe to be out in the open. We got on the dragons and flew back to Meereen. Once we were back in Meereen, she was surprised seeing the damages from the attempted sacking in the fishing district and bay. When we landed, I told Grey Worm to end the barricade, the Dothraki Horde is on our side. Grey Worm obliged and informed the Unsullied. Afterward, we went to my chambers, where I removed the leather vest and sighed in relief.

We sat down on the bed, and Daenerys told me everything that happened to her. Explaining after the attack in the Daznak Pit, Drogon took her to the hills in a sea of green grass. She tried to convince him to take her back to Meereen, but the dragon was not interested and was recovering from his wounds. She tried to make way to a river when she was taken by Khal Moro's khalasar. Khal Moro attempted to enslave her, make her one of her slaves to bear him a child, but being a widow of Khal Drogo saved her. However, due to customs, he took her to Vaes Dothrak to be part of the Dosh Khaleen. Unfortunately, because she did not return right after Drogo's death, the Khals had to decide if she was worthy of being part of the Dosh Khaleen or of being a slave. Daario and Jorah helped her, as Dany burned the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen and killed all the Khals and their bloodriders.

I was surprised at what my sweet sister did. She has become the Great Khaleesi and in a sense Queen of the Dothraki. She has brought roughly a hundred thousand Dothraki Screamers to join our cause. I held mixed feelings, although thankful for the numbers, it's the methods that concern me. She simply burned the known Khals during the Khalar Vezhven. Yes, I understand they threatened to rape her and to pass her around. The thing was, not everyone needs to die unless it was the last result. Also, I had to ask her what did she promise the Dothraki, because I will not allow the Dothraki to sail to Westeros to rape and raid the citizens.

"What did you promise them?" I asked.

"They want to complete Drogo's promise to the Mother of the Mountain. To destroy our enemies and accept the challenge." She answered.

"Dany, I can't take them across the Narrow Seas if they are going to pillage and rape. What happened in Lhazar village, I can't let that happen again. That is what our enemies would expect. Bringing what they call savages to slaughter their men, rape their women, and enslave their children. Burn down their lands."

Daenerys took my hand, "I promise you that will never happen. Once we take back the Iron Throne, they will return to Essos."

"I don't understand," I replied.

"I realized I can't stay in one place for too long. I may be a princess, but what am I when you sit on the Iron Throne? I've tasted power, and I want more. I don't want to go against you. I'm a Khaleesi, and you're a Queen. We can bring back the Valyrian Freehold, you rule Westeros and me in Essos."

"Dany," I groaned.

"You always said to think three steps ahead," Dany said.

I sighed, taking a deep breath. "We'll discuss this later when the time comes. Right now, I have an envoy sailing to Westeros trying to recruit other houses. It may take a year before we have enough ships to send over the Narrow Sea."

Daenerys nodded as she squeezed my hand. There was one question I have to ask, but I was afraid of the answer. My sister hasn't mentioned much about Jorah. So, I didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Other than Jorah helped her in getting rid of the Khals. However, she didn't mention Jorah coming back with Daario.

"And Jorah… how is he?" I asked.

A slight frown formed on her lips, "Do you know about the…"

"The Greyscale," I finished. "I know."

"From what I saw, it took his entire forearm." She answered.

I sighed, feeling like this was my fault. If I had given him a chance to explain himself, he wouldn't have been banished. He wouldn't have contracted Greyscale.

"Is he coming back?" I asked.

"No, I ordered him to find a cure," she answered.

"There is no cure," I reminded.

"You need to believe in him. He would do anything for you. I mean he fought for you, killed for you, and would die for you," Daenerys said. "Has he made a mistake? Yes. But don't forget it was against Viserys."

"It's not that," I told her. "If I didn't banish him, he wouldn't have this death sentence."

"Alys," she murmured hugging me.

I hugged her back. It feels like the world doesn't want me to be happy. To have someone by my side. Maybe this was the god's way of telling me to focus on the Great War. Although everyone keeps talking about the Iron Throne, it is nothing but an Iron Chair as Drogo puts it. Then again, my late brother-in-law would say a king only needs a horse, he thought about his Khalasar. The same as I thought about the Westerosi who are up against the Army of the Dead, led by the Night King. The Noble Houses were the ones against my family, but the people, the common people don't have a say in this. The same as the freemen who were once a slave who didn't have a say in chains.

And recalling from that nightmare with the Ice Dragon…I don't think I will make it out alive. All I can do is focus on redeeming House Targaryen name.

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	51. Chapter 51: Shade of the Evening

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 51: Shade of the Evening.**

_Three months later…_

A rugged scar mared my back as I stared through the reflection of a mirror. From the left shoulder down to my right hip. Some parts deeper than others, but I must thank the gods that the Sons of a Harpy did not sever my spine or stab me. Although the entry points showed gashes, dents. Even my left bicep showed dents, as scar tissue formed. Amateurs, Daario called the two Harpies who attacked me. If it were two mercenaries no doubt, I would have been dead. Then again, I did wear that golden scalemail. If the scalemail were made out of steel, then there wouldn't have been these wounds. How was I supposed to know the Harpies were going to attack?

Daenerys came over as she applied some ointment on the scar. Lately, Daenerys has been by my side, either it was through training or paperwork. Taking the preparation for the invasion of Westeros. Ser Barristan mainly took charge as he went over the possible scenarios of how we can take King's Landing along with Tyrion's assistance of the tunnels, possible secret entrances, and Houses who are currently serving the false Baratheons. A boy, Tommen Baratheon, a mere boy, ruling the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion insists that Tommen is an innocent child, being manipulated by his mother. If the rumors are true, that he is not Robert Baratheon's son, then I will have the boy abdicate and assign him to a small keep. I do not kill children. Daenerys was hesitant, about the decision, but I reminded her we don't hold children accountable for the crimes of their fathers.

The men part of the rebellion are dead. Jon Arryn, the Kingmaker, died of sickness. Robert Baratheon was dead, killed by a boar. Ned Stark beheaded under false pretenses of treason by Joffrey Baratheon order. Hoster Tully died from old age. Tywin Lannister murdered by his own son. Stannis Baratheon killed in battle against the Boltons. Any threats for the claimant are most likely dead. Renly Baratheon killed by one of his Kingsguard supposedly. Shireen Baratheon, unfortunately, burned alive as a sacrifice for the Lord of Light, and Joffrey Baratheon poisoned at his own wedding. Thus, leaving the Martells who have a small claimant, but they were satisfied in Dorne. And if the rumors are true about Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister siring Tommen and Myrcella, they have no claim to the Iron Throne.

Daenerys and I hold the better claim. We will take back our home, avenge our family, and restore House Targaryen's name. If only Rhaegar hadn't abducted Lyanna Stark. From all the memories I had of Rhaegar, it made no sense why he did it. Even Ser Barristan didn't understand why Rhaegar took the Northern Maiden. However, Ser Barristan said there was some sense of love for the Stark girl. Except, wasn't he happy with Elia? Rhaegar was an intelligent man, had a sense of honor, so why did he break that code knowing that Lyanna was betrothed.

I sighed when Daenerys finished applying the ointment. "You all right?"

"I'm fine, just a lot going through my head," I assured her. "How is your Khalasar?"

"No deaths just yet, or trouble in the city," Daenerys reported. "Been training the youngbloods and sellswords on fighting on a horse. Daario seems to enjoy the spares."

"As long as he doesn't lose his head," I muttered.

Daenerys chuckled knowing Daario does have a mouth. I sighed, my days were spent preparing for the invasion, keeping the peace for Slaver's Bay, and establishing a new council. Establishing a new government by the people. Although I have a feeling, the Masters would hold temptation. So, I need to develop a new military, sacrificing some of my men to do so.

"We need to discuss a new name for the Ghiscari Province. Slaver's Bay doesn't seem appropriate now that slavery has been abolished." I announced.

"Indeed," Daenerys agreed. "We should at least keep the word Bay."

I nodded as we spent some time going over name options until we decided to rename the province the Bay of Dragons. There are three dragons and three cities. If we were permanently staying, we could have set a dragon statue hovering over each city. Astapor would have Drogon, Yunkai would have Rhaegal, and Meereen would have a statue of Viserion. As much as I made a difference in the Land of Harpies, it was not my home. Even though the safest option is to rule over the Bay of Dragons. If there wasn't a Great War that is to come, I would have taken that selfish approach and make Meereen my home.

"When do you think we will get news from Varys?" Daenerys asked.

"In a few months, traveling by sea is not as quick as it seems," I answered.

"How long does it take to travel by sea?" she asked.

"It takes a month from King's Landing to Braavos, took us three from Qarth to Astapor, then again we were dealing with dead winds. Five months, if all the ships are battle ready." I guessed.

Daenerys sighed, "If only we could fly over and just take it."

"It is an option, just take the dragons and burn the walls of the city and parts of the Red Keep. But once we are off our dragons, we are more vulnerable than ever. We are nothing without our dragons. Yes, we are immune to fire, but, in the end, we still bleed." I said. "We need our armies to secure the grounds. To prepare for battles. We are not sailing the Narrow Seas so I could be Queen of the Ashes."

"I know," she said. "If only wars could be quick and easy."

"Some wars can last for months, others years," I agreed. "But we need the men. If my vision from the House of the Undying is true, there is a far greater threat than men."

"You truly believe in that?" She asked. "An army of the dead?"

"I saw a massacre of a wedding, a flay man stabbing another whose head was that of a wolf, after holding his pregnant wife's corpse. A woman with red hair pleading the old man to spare her son's life, calling him Robb. When word came of the Red Wedding, Robb Stark and his army butchered by Walder Frey, it came true. Maybe the Army of the Dead could be a symbolism for something as was the woman being fucked by four men, the woman being Westeros and the remaining five kings. Either way, something is coming. Something that the people can't fight alone."

"You also saw Rhaegar and Elia, what did that vision mean?" She asked.

I paused, wondering why the Undying Ones showed me that vision. I closed my eyes, trying to remember:

"_Aegon," Rhaegar murmured, gently stroking his son's back. "What better name for a king?"_

_"Will you make a song for him?" Elia asked._

_"He has a song," Rhaegar replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and he is the song of ice and fire."_

_I stood there watching Rhaegar and Elia talk, awing at their son, Aegon. My eyes watered, recalling a small memory of them together. Remembering seeing Aegon in his crib asleep with Rhaenys._

_"There must be one more," he said, as he turned his head facing me. As if he knew I was there. "The dragon has three heads."_

"Probably to earn my trust with the people I cared for," I guessed. "A song of ice and fire, his desire to have three children, believing the dragon has three heads."

"Maybe it could represent our dragons, we have three. If the dead are from the land of ice, then the dragons are fire. A war that can be easily dealt with."

"It's shocking that you believe me, you must be mad as well," I jest.

Daenerys smiled slightly shaking her head, "After all the magic we have seen and experienced, visions you received from the Undying Ones, and the Red Wedding, it's hard not to believe from a logical person like yourself."

I sighed for I genuinely wanted to tell her about Visenya. However, the first Queen Consort forbade it. She comes to those who are destined for Greatness. As the dowager queen stated, Daenerys is in between Greatness and Madness. If I keep Daenerys on track to control her impulses and educate her, then the madness won't consume her. But Daenerys did one thing that was part of Visenya's riddle on when to sail west. My sisters brought the horses that will lend aid. If the Dothraki were a House, their sigil would be a stallion. Now all that remains is the Kraken, and then we sail for Westeros.

So much is going through my head, as I told Daenerys I needed to rest for a bit. She nodded since it was late in the evening anyway. She pecked my forehead and retired to her chambers. Once she was gone, I stared out to the balcony. Nights have become longer than the day. It was the autumn seasons is most parts of the world, as the Dothraki Sea started to fall into hibernation. Tyrion said, the winds have brought a chill to King's Landing, meanwhile here in Bay of Dragons, a long night and temperatures are dropping to wear two layers. The Starks always say as their motto, "Winter is Coming." I just pray that this coming winter isn't the beginning to the Long Night.

Already the R'hllor priest and priestess are preaching about the Long Night, the legends of Azor Ahai who fought the Others in the Age of Heroes. That was thousands of years ago, leaving the legend like that. Yet, from what Visenya foretold, and other cultures talking about an unknown made of white consuming the lands, has me concern.

"For the night is dark and full of terrors," I quoted, then sighed. "There will always be terrors, either it is man or beast."

_"There is a beast in every man, and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand,"_ Jorah's voice whispered in my head.

I sighed, wondering where my Bear was in the world right now and his state of health. How far has the Greyscale consumed him? Every person is different based on their constitution. In the end, the disease was killing him slowly turning a good man into a stone man, a beast of stone. Daenerys keeps telling me to have faith, even Tyrion said, that Stannis Baratheon's daughter, Shireen was infected by Greyscale until many maesters and healers around the world saved the poor child. Although, the infliction scarred her face. So is there a chance to cure Greyscale …possibly. Yet the cure is not open to the public unless it's cutting off the limb even then it's not effective. Prince Garin's Curse, they called it. Garin the Great called out to Mother Rhoyne to curse the Valyrians, by the goddess, in turn, flooded the city with foul waters and damp fogs that inflected his enemies. Again, the Valyrians were grey people, they were not good, nor were they evil, and they made many enemies during their empire. Taking almost a third of Essos. Still, for a superstitious person if Prince Garin did not beg Mother Rhoyne to curse his enemies, how many lives could have been spared from this terrible disease?

Though the calm before the storm, I worry for Jorah. He was out there in a world where they give the infected two option: exiled to old Valyria or be executed. A mercy death. Many of the Free Cities would do that. Give the infected a nice meal, a glass of wine filled with a tonic to put them to sleep and then kill them quickly and humanely as possible.

My eyes watered and I took a deep breath. There were two things Jorah ever wanted, to return home and to stand by my side. Now he cannot do either. I thought about the what-ifs, if he didn't contract Greyscale. He would be here by my side, reinstated as general. After some time, we could have been together. Then came the debate, I was a queen, and there would be an expectation to marry a Lord from a great house. A Lord without disgrace. Jorah was a disgraced knight, he sold slaves and exiled himself. However, he redeemed himself over the years in exile, and helped in the liberation of Slaver's Bay. I would have pardoned him ultimately once I take back the Seven Kingdoms. And maybe…make our relationship official.

Another thought came when Jorah advised Daenerys to sell the eggs in order for us to become rich women instead of burning them on Drogo's funeral pyre, or if Dany succumbed to the fever after giving birth to Rhaego. I asked Jorah what he would have done, if I told him I don't want to be Queen, abdicating my claim to the throne. And he answered, "I will always follow and protect you." Just kill our old identities, moved to Braavos or some free city and start over again.

I sighed once more before getting ready for bed.

**.o0o.**

_Clank_

Steel clashed against steel.

Ser Barristan was getting me back into training. Although, instead of going back where we left off, he was testing me on my strengths. Three months out of practice and the past few days is nothing but gaining strength with the sword and shield. Along with getting used to fighting in armor. Currently, I wore chainmail, spaulders, and bracers. It added weight to my upper body, yet it helped to build muscles, the same as wielding the sword and shield.

Ser Barristan continues to strike while I block each attack. Today was about defense. However, because of Visenya's training, I keep forgetting to act like I was limited to the art of dueling. Barristan would ask, how did I learn a few tricks, which I lie saying 'Jorah taught me.' Or 'I don't know, instincts, I guess.'

The older knight did an oberhau, striking down from above towards my left shoulder. Immediately, I lifted my shield, blocking it, then maneuver my sword to lock his sword by the cross guard. It would not harm the knight, but this method is a way to push the attack back, as I forced my weight forward into the shield, causing the longsword to slide off.

"Good," Barristan said, stepping back, as he points his sword at me.

I did a schielhau, leaning forward, closing the line attack, leading with a false edge, biding to the left, then cross over to the blade and got Barristan in the right bicep. If we were not using sparing swords, the blade would have cut him deeply. By instinct, I stepped back and got into a defensive position. Barristan nodded. If I was taller, I could learn more about targeting the opponents head, but since I wasn't, my focus has to be on the arms, shoulders, and neck. All through practice, it has been that. Ser Barristan addressing a type of attack and I figure out a way to defend myself or block it.

Once we were done, we put the swords away and walked over to the canopy where refreshment were set out, along with Daenerys and Missandei who were watching our duel. Daenerys handed the goblet of water, which I accept greedily drinking it. The weather warm, and wearing the chainmail and padding made it feel hotter. After finishing the glass, I took a clean rag to wipe the sweat off my neck and brow. It brought back memories of Jorah teaching me how to fight in the Red Waste, near the only lake the barren lands had. The weather dry and hot, sweat trying to form yet evaporated by the blazing sun.

"Damn heat," I muttered.

"It's not that hot," Daenerys chuckled.

"Once you get used to wearing armor the temperatures will be nothing," Ser Barristan said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Seriously, which weather is worse for wearing plated armor?" I asked.

"Depends where you are and the padding," Barristan answered. "The armor I wore for your fathers Kingsguard was a breastplate, pauldrons, bracers, gauntlets, and greave. Underneath was gambesons. But when we were battle, we made sure to wear the full armor."

"And the armor your making for Alysanne, it's like Rhaegar's?" Daenerys asked.

"Similar, Rhaegar had two sets one for jousting and one for fighting. His jousting armor had more character, yet no one expected the strength on Robert's hammer." Barristan answered.

"No one expects a war started by a woman," I sighed.

Us Westerosi sighed. We all know, none of this would have happened if Rhaegar left Lyanna Stark alone. Then again Ser Barristan said if King Aerys the Second's madness continued, a rebellion would have happened anyway. The problem was, instead of Father igniting it, it was Rhaegar. A man of honor from what I remember. He could have taken the Iron Throne as promised, making the Seven Kingdoms a better realm. He had a family, a wife, and two children. A relationship with the people by both noble and common birth. And yet…lust destroyed it all. If I were to die and see Rhaegar in the Father golden halls, he has some explaining to do. Even Visenya who mentored Rhaegar couldn't understand how this happened. She told me Rhaegar's last dream with her, she advised him to let Lyanna Stark be, or it would be the doom for House Targaryen. After that, Visenya waited alone in limbo until the gods deemed I was fit to be her pupil.

"Anyway, what kind of helmet are you going for?" Daenerys said, changing the subject.

The helmet, the last thing that will be made. It can't be a simple helmet, no. The protective headpiece must be secured when riding Viserion at the same time when I'm on the ground. I was considering using the Unsullied helmet design, connecting my relationship with my army. I was their leader, and so far, other than my usual black attire am I associated with them. The most common helmet for combat in Westeros was the nasal helmet for the foot soldiers and the barbute for knights or a close helm. As long it is not dramatic, I genuinely don't care. All I need is to see from all angles, move my neck, breathe, and it is secured without trapping my head with a lock. So, the visor must be appropriate.

"Something cross between the Unsullied and a close helm," I answered. "However, there might be some dragon wings on the side."

Daenerys chuckled imagining that. For some apparent reason, armors representing one's house is very common. The pauldrons, spaulders, and helmet define who the person is. I somewhat remember Rhaegar's helmet. The jousting helmet, it had a red three-headed dragon on it.

"I hope your grace, is not considering of marching into the battlefield?" Tyrion said as he joined us.

"No," I assured. "Barely three years is not enough to be battlefield ready. But it's important to be covered than exposed. That reminds me, Daenerys, Missandei, you two need to be measured to have your armor as well."

This surprised the two women. I know they will not enter the battlefield, but I need them to wear some sort of breastplate that protects their vitals.

"Along with some lessons in how to use a dagger or other weapons that deem fit," I added.

"Your Grace, it's against my culture to use violence," Missandei addressed.

I nodded, "Will you consider learning defensive moves then."

Missandei nodded. I need everyone to be on guard and ready when we sail to Westeros. To know how to protect themselves. Based on reports from Westeros, the code of honor is depleting. Finishing my drink, I started taking off the spaulders, when I noticed from the corner of my eye a shimmer, a dark mass crossing my peripheral vision. A person walking by in dark clothing, pale skin, and a bald head. I nearly stumbled, for a moment I thought I saw a ghost.

"You all right?" Ser Barristan asked as he caught me.

"Yes…I just startled myself," I answered, seeing the person no longer in sight.

"Maybe it's best you get inside and out of the sun, your grace," Tyrion suggested.

I nodded, for that could be a possible explanation from exhorting too much energy from training. Excusing myself, I headed inside with my two guards and Missandei. Once in my chambers, Missandei drew a bath in my private bathing chambers while I stripped. When I stepped inside the warm pool, I sighed in relief, feeling the ache in my muscles relaxing. Missandei came over from behind and started brushing my hair.

**.o0o.**

Time went on as I spent the rest of the day going over paperwork. The reconstruction of the city was going well, improvements on the walls, and by some miracle, the Dothraki haven't caused any trouble. Well, not killing and raping. The realization coming that in a year or two, I will be sailing home. The last time I was in Westeros, I four years old in Dragonstone. Through books and peoples accounts about my homeland, it still feels like a stranger to me. All my life as a child, I was kept in a tower in Maegor's Holdfast, because my Father was paranoid; believing someone would try to kill me. All I could remember was my room, the small private garden, and the Throne Room. When Father sent Mother, Viserys, and I to Dragonstone, I had more freedom to explore with a guardian present. The dark sand beaches, the volcanic rocks, and the countless carvings of dragons.

I am a Westerosi, but my culture is many than those of one. Born in the Crownlands and Valyrian culture, the survival of the Free Cities, the exposure to the Dothraki, and samples of Ghis. The Seven-Pointed Star is my faith, yet I have respected the Old Gods, the Great Stallion, the Lady of Spears, and tolerant to the Lord of Light. And yet, the Noble Lords will see me as a foreign invader with her army of savages. The stress was building up, for there will be two wars I'll be fighting, the one to reclaim my home and the Great War.

By evening, Daenerys and I had dinner. We tried to have a conversation that did not relate to politics or war. Mainly she talked about her training with Drogon. The black dragon was massive, more significant than Viserion and Rhaegal. The training for Daenerys was mixed since Drogon was stubborn. Again, another concern. Deciding I needed a hard drink, I stood up from the table to the bar to pour some pear brandy. Once more, I felt eyes on me. Every single day, I have felt eyes on me from the guards. However, this was different. I felt a predator glance.

I took a sip of the brandy then stopped, gagging. The taste of the brandy was not of pears, it did not spoil or become of vinegar. No, it held a foul taste of spoil meat and ink. I tried to spit it out, except my lips were now sealed. The liquid numbing them impossible to open.

"Alys?" Daenerys called out, standing up from the table.

I tried prying my lips open, trying to breathe from my nose and not swallow the content. Inspecting the crystal chalice to see the amber liquid turn blue.

_Shade of the Evening,_ I thought in panic.

I dropped the chalice, as it shattered on the stone ground. The magical wine spread throughout, staining the alabaster stone, and began to boil. The liquid in my mouth did the same. Daenerys eyes widen calling for the guards, as she came over to help me spit out the poison. Suddenly, the three guards who were in the room, coming to our aid were stabbed by the one in the middle. I gagged, choking as I fell to the ground.

The traitor Unsullied removed his helmet, revealing none other than Pyat Pree. The Warlock from the House of the Undying. Impossible, the dragons burned him alive. We saw him turn to dust.

"Pyat Pree," Daenerys gasped. "No, you're supposed to be dead."

"Pyat Pree is dead," the Warlock replied. "I am one of the few remaining warlocks alive. We all share the same face."

"What did you do to her!" she demanded.

"She drank a special blend of the Shade of the Evening, sweet sleep, the long farewell, and magic." The Warlock said.

The doors burst opened as Ser Barristan, Daario, and the Unsullied charged in. They went for the straight attack. When Daario's Stiletto struck the Warlock, he vanished, leaving a pile of armor. The Warlock appeared behind Daario and tossed him across the room. He lifted his hand using an unknown force, propelling the Unsullied and Ser Barristan to the wall. Daenerys grabbed a bottle and threw it at the Warlock. He smacked it away, and with a turn of his wrist, tossed her aside. I leaped to grab her, except a hand appeared around my neck and slammed me down. The poisons in my mouth, partially slide down my throat.

"You killed the Undying Ones," the Warlock murmured. "My brothers and I waited to strike when you least expected it. Did you think our attempt is Astapor would be the last?"

Panicked, I tried to fight him off, trying to spit out the poison. The Warlock yanked my head and slammed it on the ground, stunning me. His frail hand wrapped around my mouth and nose, preventing me from breathing. By my body's instinct, I unintendedly swallow. The Warlock blue lips grinned and removed his hand.

"You will pay for what you did to them, your fire belongs to us, Dragon Queen." He promised, cradling my cheek. I gasped, choking, feeling the spasms through my body. "Don't worry, your grace, you will not die a quick, painful death. We need your fire, your magic, your life. Until you are drained of all that, your mind will succumb to your deepest desires. A life's worth in a few days. Sweet dreams and beautiful nightmares, Alysanne Targaryen."

I choked trying to grab something, except the Warlock grabbed my hands and kissed me. My eyes widen, forcing a scream when Daenerys rushed in stabbing the Warlock in the head with Daario's stiletto. Warlock tensed dying on top of me, before being shoved off breaking the spell that retrained the guards. She hovers over me, holding me in her arms.

"Alys, Alys, stay awake, breathe," she begged.

That was the problem, I sucked in so much air, and yet nothing was coming out. The poison burning into my stomach and igniting my veins. When, the burning sensation stopped, everything started to feel cold. The weight of the world numbing my body as my eyes grew heavy.

"No, no, no, stay awake, you have to stay awake. I forbid you from dying!" she demanded.

I mustered all my strength to cradle her cheek, feeling both our tears. Trying to stay awake, yet the poison took its hold. Until the weight of it all drowned me into darkness. The last thing I heard was Viserion's roar and Daenerys's scream.

"Alysanne!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	52. Chapter 52: Deepest Desires

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.**

* * *

**Chapter 52: Deepest Desires**

_The Apex_

Daenerys sat by her sister's side watching as the Blue Graces tried to find a cure. She held her sister's hand, tears running down her face. It has been two days since Alysanne was poisoned, her body falling into comatose state, breathing very slowly, as her chest expand a little then sunk back down. Her skin turning pale by each passing day, and lips blue. The Blue Graces says she was alive, but growing frail with each passing day. Daenerys commanded them to heal her, commanded the Unsullied to find any apothecary shop that has a cure for these poisons. Sweet Sleep and the Long Farewell, does have a cure, but brewing will take time. All knew about this attack was kept hush; however, Viserion could be heard wailing. Drogon, being the dominant, tried to make the golden dragon to submit, but barely.

"Please, don't die," Daenerys whimper squeezing Alysanne's hand. "You must wake up. You can't leave me. You promised. You promised to take me home. "

Tyrion entered the room seeing the youngest sister weeping. He didn't understand what happened. From what he was told, a Warlock from Qarth tried to seek revenge on the girls. They attempted this before in Astapor, with a manticore hidden in a toy ball. Now a Warlock snuck inside the Great Pyramid, putting an illusion charm on the pear brandy that was actually Shade of the Evening laced with poison and out of mere taste, Alysanne drank it.

"I'm so sorry, your grace," Tyrion said.

"She's not dead," Daenerys snapped. She was either Khaleesi or Your Highness, but never Your Grace. She will refuse to respond to that title.

Tyrion took a deep breath, "Daenerys- "

"All her life since we were forced into exile, men have tried to kill her. I don't know how many times knives were placed against her neck, her hands tied, and beaten. I don't know how many times poison-laced her food, only to be caught by our guardians. Or the times she grew sick or starving to a point death was near. Throughout it all, she risked her life to save mine. Even it means being abused by Viserys. Stabbed by cowards who hide behind masks, and in her moment of vulnerability, it took a warlock."

She turned around, facing him, "She is not dead. Alysanne is a fighter, no matter what she'll fight to stay alive."

The dwarf did not know how to respond to this. To him, the poisons that were mentioned and the limit of time left should have killed the Queen. It has been two days, and a Long Farewell can take hours, and yet it has been longer than that. The known question in what happened in Qarth lingered. Only five people genuinely know, and there was a communication error. Kovarro and Aggo only spoke in Dothraki, Jorah is nowhere to be found, Daenerys is emotionally distressed, and Alysanne laid dying. Ser Barristan had some knowledge, but he did not know what genuinely happened. Only that Xaro Xhoan Daxos and a Warlock name Pyat Pree stole the dragons, and the girls went to the House of the Undying to retrieve them. They were exposed to Shade of the Evening, having visions, and something else. One which people say Alysanne first kill was with the Undying Ones. Whoever the Undying Ones are held a steadfast vendetta against the Targaryen Sisters.

"What did your sister do, to heave their wrath?" Tyrion asked.

Daenerys turned her gaze back to Alysanne, "I was held prisoner. They chained me, as the Undying Ones crawled over my body trying to steal my magic in a sense. I was scared, petrified, and I called for my sister. Not a moment too soon, she came in with her sword and killed them all. Pyat Pree offered to let Alysanne go, and leave me and the dragons behind. But she said the dragon must have three heads. That we Targaryens will take what we want with Fire and Blood. Afterward, she had the dragons set him on fire."

Tyrion nodded.

"So, she cannot die," Daenerys said. "She fought so hard."

The dwarf did not know what to do. The last time he dealt with a monarch being poisoned was his own nephew. Joffrey deserved to die, though whoever gave the poison had framed him. All because he was forced to be the cupbearer. Now a good woman is dying in her sleep all because she protected her sister. He came over, resting a hand on Daenerys's shoulder. The Mother of Dragons looked at him cautiously.

"You're right, she is strong," Tyrion said.

Daenerys nodded, turning her focus back to her sister. Tyrion left the room to give Daenerys privacy, though deep down he had a feeling Alysanne won't make it. It made him worry about the princess's mind, in how she will take this death. Will it break her or not? Stopping at the door, he stared at the scene before him. True love and devotion in a family.

"Please wake up," Daenerys begged quietly. "First our family, then Rhaego, and Drogo…I can't lose you. Please wake up. We promised to sail to Westeros together."

She kissed Alysanne's hand, wondering what world the Warlock trapped her sister in. Remembering the Warlock saying, Alysanne would be trapped in her deepest desire. Of sweet dreams and beautiful nightmares.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I shot up awake and found myself clenching my throat from a foul taste in my mouth. Looking around to see the room was different. Wait, wasn't I in Meereen? No, the room was different, it was of western culture. The walls of panel wood, as the ceilings were white having exposed wood beams with carvings. There were furnishings as well, of fine craftsmanship. Overwhelmed by the dream, as a faint scent of citrus caught my nose. A pair of arms wrapped around me. I tensed, pulling away about to hit the person when the individual grabbed my arm.

"Alysanne, easy, it was just a nightmare," the man said, with a Northern accent.

My eyes widen comprehending to see it was Jorah. How…how was this possible? Then my eyes linger to left forearm, seeing it…was not infected by Greyscale. I grabbed his arm inspecting it, seeing nothing but hairs and scars. I looked up, staring into his confused expression.

"You're cured?" I whispered.

"Cured? I didn't even know I was sick," he attempted to tease.

I shook my head, "You had Greyscale. I'd banished you, and you came back with Tyrion Lannister, but caught Greyscale when fighting a stone man in Valyria."

Jorah grabbed my hands and kissed it. "Love, it was only a dream."

On my left ring finger was a simple gold band with a blue gem on it. As Jorah had a basic gold band as well. Nothing decorative, just basic and simple. Wait…we're married? I tried to remember…

"It can't be a dream, I was with Dany…we were having dinner, and then a warlock…he poisoned me…" I tried to grasp hold of reality.

Jorah sighed, wrapping his arms around me, embracing me in a hug, "It was only a dream. I know you miss your sister. It's almost been five years since she passed. And what happened in Qarth, those Warlocks will never touch you again."

Wait, did he say Daenerys was dead. Five years? What happened in Qarth? I was utterly confused, trying to figure out what is going on. And then I looked out from one of the windows. Gazing through the view at the early hours of dawn to see a lagoon filled with islands connected with stone bridges and canals. I know this city, we're in Braavos. Jorah leaned over and kissed my forehead. All the memories from my dream and realization it was just that, a dream.

Daenerys was dead. She died in Lhazar after giving birth to her stillborn son, Rhaego. Drogo was killed too, he succumbed to the poison that Mirri Maz Duur gave him. Cohollo and Haggo, Khal Drogo's bloodriders killed the witch, and the Khalasar gave their Khal and Khaleesi a Dothraki Funeral. The Two bloodriders were generous and gave us horses and supplies before they departed back to Vaes Dothrak. Irri and Jhiqui went with the Khalasar since Irri was in a relationship with Rakharo, and Jhiqui found peace with the Khalasar. Doreah came with us, as we traveled through the Red Waste and into the City of Qarth. It was a struggle, but the Thirteen let us in, and Xaro Xhoan Daxos invited us as his guest until we can find a ship or a message back to Pentos. However, Xaro had other plans…trying to pressure me into marrying him. Then the Warlocks kidnapped me, trying some ritual to revive the dragon eggs. If it weren't for Jorah, I would have been enslaved and trapped.

We escaped on a ship thanks to the Spice King who had trade routes to Pentos. Although Doreah remained in Qarth. There we reunited with Magister Illyrio. He tried to convince me to continue Viserys's campaign of taking back the Iron Throne. But I had had enough. I had lost my sister, was held hostage in Qarth, used in some sacrificial ritual, and everywhere I went assassins followed. I was sick of running, tired of people using me because of my name and blood. All because I was descended from Aegon the Conqueror. All I wanted was to live and be happy. So, in my lowest lows, I abdicated. I had written a letter, sending to Westeros for the Small Council stating that I abdicate the Throne and all my descendants after that. Even gave the Targaryen Ring of Kings. I then sold the green dragon egg and started over.

Jorah for some unknown reason has been there by my side since joining my family's company. Back in Qarth, when I was tempted by Xaro's offer, he told me not too and confessed his feelings for me. Even when I told him I did not want to Iron Throne, he stayed by my side. Trust was hard since the Warlocks exposed his secrets. I couldn't talk to him throughout the voyage, that he spied on my family. However, over time, I forgave him. One thing leads to another, and a year later, we got married. Now I go by Alys Mormont. Only in private does Jorah called me by my given name. Since my alias was that I was a Lyseni, from Lys who is of Valyrian descent. We escaped to Braavos and started a small business in the trade of silks and exotic fabrics after selling the black egg. Jorah taught sword lessons on the side as well.

By some miracle, the House with the Red Door was our home. Not questioning the price, or it's a condition we purchased the estate from the Iron Bank. When we settled for the first time in years, I was with child. Jorah and I were nervous and excited. Both of us concerned since there was the risk of my health, the genetics of being a product of incest. The history of my mother, who struggled with her pregnancy. Along with Jorah's concern, since his first wife died from a miscarriage. So, we took every precaution until our son, Joren, was born.

The past five years, I've been having these dreams of Daenerys being alive and we were on our conquest to reclaim the Iron Throne. The dragons were back, two of them named after my brothers and one after Drogo. Jorah pulled us down again to the bed.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "These dreams, they've become so vivid, so real…"

"I would find it a nightmare too, if you had Greyscale." Jorah murmured rubbing my back.

I nodded, looking up into his blue eyes. There I saw so much love, devotion, and care. He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. The scruffs teasing my skin during the gentle kiss. I chuckled slightly, kissing him back until the kiss grew passionate. Jorah rolled over to stretch out on top of me. Large callous hands caressing my body as they made their way down.

"You are of sweet honey," he murmured, placing a trail of kisses on my forehead, nose, and once more on my lips. "One I can't get enough."

"The Dragon seduces the Bear without even trying," I teased, accepting the pressure of his lips and moved my hips seductively against his hips. We were married and did not bother with protection, especially since conceiving was difficult for me. Although I have a feeling that my bear wanted a second child.

"Probably so," he replied, removing my nightgown, then feeling every inch of my nakedness beneath him, onto the raised buds of my breast. Before going back up, Jorah's runs his fingers over my face, throat, and neck. The musky scent of his arousal filled my sense in the citrus air. My eyes closed as I waited for what's to come next. His mouth slid down over my neck and chest. A damp lap of his tongue over my left breast made my insides spasm. He circled the raised bud slowly, taking time which we don't have. I bucked beneath him, wanting more, but his mouth returned to my lips with another passionate kiss. And then his lips become softer, lighter, teasing me.

"Joren will wake soon," I reminded. "Unless you want him to walk in on us again?"

Jorah chuckled as he turned to my breast. I moaned, closing my eyes as the sensation of his fingers tweedled my nipples along with his lips. Teeth were careful as they nip and tug before being soothed by his tongue. Meanwhile, he inches my thighs apart with his own and settles his hard length between them. His other hand teasing my entrance, sliding a finger inside to prepare me for him. A gasp escaped my lips, hips involuntary pressed against his hand while my hands gripped his shoulder. Jorah pulled back from my breast and grinned, getting me wet enough for what is to come. Once he considers it so, he eased himself inside me. My head hit the pillow, as he stroked inside me in a slow yet hard thrust.

I snaked my arms around him, sliding sensuously to his lower back, and then to his buttocks. Lifting his nightshirt up to expose him to feel his skin. With the force of my passion alone, I pulled him back, raised my hips, urging him on. With each stroke, sent waves of desire throbbed through me. A sense that this was the first time in a long time of being together. Each thrust surrendering myself to the storm, riding him to the height of passion, crying out with each deep stroke. My hands exploring his body, greedy to feel him as his muscles contorted.

He struck that sweet spot inside and sent me over the edge as I cried out his name. Jorah groaned as he continued to push into me as my body clenched around him. And then a few thrusts later, spilled his seeds inside me. Once spent, he pulled out and laid back down, panting heavily. I turned to my side and chuckle.

"Exhausted, already?" I asked playfully.

"I'm getting old," he muttered.

I chuckled, leaning over and peck his cheek, "You're never old."

A small smile graced his lips as we cuddle for a bit. But once the sun started to reach the sky, we knew it was time to get up and face the day. So, we freshened up and changed into our daily clothes, before separating. We had three servants whose job was to tend to the estate; however, it was the celebration of the Unmasking of Braavos they had the day off. Every year in Braavos with ten days of feasting and masked revelry, a festival would occur. During those ten days and other holidays, we let the staff go out and celebrate. A holiday in a sense. Over the years of travel, Jorah knows how to cook the basic, and when settling in Braavos, the cook taught me a few simple recipes. Along with the city having restaurants and markets to feast at. So as Jorah got breakfast ready, I went to wake our son.

Opening the door, I found Joren was still asleep. He slept in the bed, curled up to his stuff toy in shape of bear hugging it. I smiled, walking over, and sat on the edge of the bed. Joren was three now and was a good mixture between his father and I. His skin was fair, as his short curly hair was golden, somewhere between Jorah and my hair color. Only time will tell if it'll lighten up or darken. And he opened his eyes they were Indigo. There was some blessing my eye color, as Targaryens had different shades of purple eyes, and yet people mistake mine to be dark blue eyes. Making the deception much more manageable in this life. My sweet little boy stirred, turning away from me. I chuckled, rubbing his back and gently massaged him to wake up. A trick the nanny taught me to wake a child not to be grumpy.

"Mama, me sleepy," Joran mumbled.

"The sky is awake, Mommy and Daddy are awake, so it's time for you to wake," I softly sang.

Joren turned, facing me while rubbing his eyes. A big yawn escaped his lips as he stretched out his little arms before climbing on top of me. I chuckled, usually it would be appropriate to dress him now, except Joren, like all toddlers are messy eaters. So, we let him eat in his nightshirt before cleaning him up and changed for the day. Getting a good hold, I picked him up and carried him into the kitchen. There was no point in eating in the dining room right now. Once in the kitchen, the smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh bread enveloped us.

Jorah turned around, seeing us with a smile, "Tired?"

Joren nodded, clinging to my vest. Jorah chuckled, as he pulled out a chair and took Joren from me. He set the child down, facing the table and eyes widen when seeing bread smeared with strawberry jam and butter. Not even a blink and the boy were devouring it. Jorah and I chuckled, as we finished making breakfast and joined our son.

"Do you have any teachings today?" I asked Jorah, taking a slice of bread and applied the jam.

"No, not while the Braavos celebrations are happening," Jorah answered. "Any meetings with the Iron Bank or other businesses?"

"No, I finished the last transaction a few days ago. The deal went through, so the hides from the Dothraki will be distributed to the tanners." I replied.

"Dot-aki." Joren cheered. The little cub enjoyed the stories about the Dothraki. Ones Jorah has told him about his adventures. If Daenerys and her family were still alive, and our family made, Rhaego and Joren would be learning how to ride horses. Thinking about it brought a slight heart ache.

I sighed, "I believe several boating tournaments are happening. We should go see that. Enjoy the family festivities before things get out of hand."

Jorah nodded, taking a bite of his eggs. In the days of the Unmasking, there were events suitable for families. But when the nights arrive, it belongs to the adults. I remember the first year Jorah and I went to our first Unmasking, wearing elaborate outfits, well I was, and masks, dancing and drinking. Watching performances until on the last day where the Titan of Braavos roars and the removal of masks.

Once we finished breakfast, Jorah went to gather our things for the day while I got Joren dressed for the day. In the early day, it was not necessary to wear the mask, but I made our son this outfit to feel part of the celebration, as it held the Mormont colors of black, white, and green with small accents of red. His collar had scale print, though not visible unless someone has a keen eye. Joren was Mormont by name, but he has the blood of the dragon. If I didn't abdicate, he would have been the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, with the blood of old Valyria, Andal, and the First Men. An offspring for a Northman of Ice and a Dragoness of Fire. After Joren was dressed, I took the time to get ready, braiding my hair to the Braavosi style, applying the brass flower hairpins, and securing the rest a in a bronze thread caul interconnected with glass beads.

All of us officially dressed and ready, we left the House of the Red Door for the docks where one of the boating tournaments were occurring. Small boats with purple sails get for the reenactment of the history of Braavos? The crowd gathering, on the retelling a dark history of the Valyrian before they became the Freehold. As slaves at the time rose against their Valyrian captors and seized the helms of the convoy and the birth of the Braavos. Joren had a hard time seeing, as a taller kid blocked his view. Jorah chuckled, as he picked Joren up and placed him on his shoulders. The boy smiled as he watched the ships perform. I watched my boys, happy that I made the decision to abdicate. Ever since writing the letter to the Small Council, and giving up the Targaryen ring not once have there been any assassination attempt.

Have there been wars in Westeros? There have, as the Lannisters/Baratheon still reign over the Seven Kingdoms. Under Tommen Baratheon's reign there's been peace. Or at least those are the gossip since the young king was married to Margaery Tyrell. There was peace, and I found peace here with my family. It was best to let the Targaryen name to die out, but my bloodline shall continue.

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

The Exiled Knight frowned in disappointment as he left the physician who examined his condition. Just like the other three healers who have been reported of curing extreme cases of diseases, they were not able to cure Greyscale. They only provided ointments and recommend to drown the infected tissue in vinegar to slow down the spread. Currently, the infection has consumed his entire arm and half of his chest and back, still a light shade of gray, but they have calcified, and certain parts were tender. Twice, he had to escape from being shipped to Valyria or being killed.

Sometimes he wonders if he should just give up. But then he remembers Daenerys's order for him to find a cure. To get better and return to the Targaryen Sisters. To return to Alysanne. He cautiously walked through the streets of a smaller city outside of the Orange Shores. Staying away from large crowds and cities unless there was news of an expert physician. The past few days have felt like a struggle. He had a bad feeling something terrible was going to happen or already happened.

Checking his coin purse to see how much money he had left, decided there wasn't much for a secure inn. There were taverns, and even then, chances of someone walking in while he treats his Greyscale is risky. But it was getting late, and the cities become more active at night than they do in the day. Sighing, he continues walking, leading his horse out of the town to make camp.

"Jorah the Andal," a female voice greeted him.

Jorah stopped his track for he hasn't heard that woman's voice since Qarth. Turning around, he saw none other than Quaithe standing there. She wore her elaborate red and blue hexagon gown, with a dark blue robe over it. Her face masked behind the intricate metalwork of elongated hexagons, as her brown eyes stared at him.

"Quaithe," he whispered, seeing the shadowbinder from Asshai. The last time he saw this woman, she was painting a charm on a sailor back with ram's blood. Using her magic to tell him where the dragons were kept. What disturbed him, was that the woman knew everything about him, details that he told no one by a single stare.

The shadowbinder nodded, "You did not seek protection when sailing across Valyria. All who travel too close to the doom must have protection, Jorah the Andal. And now you are far away from your Queen."

"I can't be near her," Jorah sighed.

"You cannot, for it was a single drop of the dooms blood that puts you on a deadly path," Quaithe murmured.

"What do you want?" Jorah asked, not in the mood to be taunted of his mistakes.

"Your queen is dying," Quaithe answered.

Jorah tensed glaring at her, "She is not."

"I do not lie, follow me Jorah the Andal, and I shall tell you what you need to know," she said, as she started walking.

Jorah debated about this. He was not fond of magic, not after Qarth with Pyat Pree. When sailing to Slaver's Bay, and nothing magical happening after the Warlock's assassination temp, they be done with it. Concluding the farther east you go, the darker the magic becomes. However, this clairvoyant woman aided him in finding the dragons and protecting the Targaryen Sisters. She knew more things than Varys, so her to come all this way to tell him that Alysanne was dying got his attention. Fearing the life for his Queen and Lover, yet wary if this was a trap, followed the mysterious woman.

Quaithe lead him to a dark lit alley where there was a small table on the side. The stable boy saw them as Quaithe nodded to the adolescent, who took custody of the horse. Jorah quickly grabbed his property before following her inside a windowless building. Immediately his hand grasped the handle of his dagger.

"No harm shall come to you," she said, opening the door letting him in.

Cautious, he entered into the dimly lit building. Quaithe lead the way down the many halls until entering into a room filled with exotic artifacts from Asshai, Valyrian, and the R'hllor religion. He looked around wondering who else could be hiding among the shadows. Watching the deviant woman walked over to a table covered in vials and herbs.

"Why am I here?" Jorah demanded. "What has happened to the queen?"

_"They shall come day and night to see the wonder born into the world again. And when they see, they shall lust, for dragons are fire made flesh. And fire is power."_ She quoted, from when they met in Qarth at Xaro Xhoan Doxas party. Warning him about the Xaro and the Warlocks. "They came once in Astapor, and now the warlocks have come again, this time victorious."

He stared into her dark eyes then widen, "No…"

"Your Queen is dying in a slumbering death. Poisoned by a warlock, and each passing day draining her fire until the Stranger claims her." She explained.

Jorah shook his head as he clenched his fist. No, Quaithe must be mistaken. Alysanne was heavily guarded, Daario Naharis, Ser Barristan Selmy, Grey Worm, the Second Sons and the Unsullied would have prevented such poisoning. Even Viserion with his sense of danger could have prevented it. And yet, the shadowbinder's eyes spoke the truth.

"How?" He demanded.

"Shade of the Evening disguised in Pear Brandy," she answered.

The Knight scowled, knowing Alysanne did not drink regularly, not after the poisoning attempt in Western Market in Vaes Dothrak. When it came to a hard drink, she would only drink when she needed to relax.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked.

"You love her, Jorah the Andal, would you die for her at this very moment." She replied, staring into his eyes in an empty stare.

In the beginning, he would have hesitated, but knowing his love and devotion, he stared back at the shadowbinder, "Yes."

Quaithe nodded, "There is a way to break the curse the Warlocks put on the Dragoness. To break the spell, she must be woken."

"Daenerys would have woken her up already," he said.

"She must be woken up from her dream in the world the warlocks made for her. She is trapped in her own desires, one that no one wishes to leave. The longer she stays in the dream, the faster the Undying Ones claims her life."

"Then wake her up then."

"I am not in the dream. I cannot enter. But you can."

Jorah was confused.

"She dreams of you in this world." She explained as she walked over a table pedestal where a tall black statue in the shape of a candle stood. "This is a glass candle, made of obsidian and found after the Doom of Valyria. I can link your mind to hers, and there you must find the object that binds her to the dream or convince her to wake without being direct. However…"

"However, what?"

"If she were to die in the real world, you will both be trapped until death claims you. If you were to die in her dream, then you shall die in the real world."

Jorah stared at Quaithe thinking about it and then he stared at his left arm. He was already a dead man. He surrendered to the sickness the moment he first saw it, knowing it would kill him. Even consider killing himself before it could. Daenerys Stormborn convinced him otherwise, so he could come back to Alysanne. However, out the four physicians and healers known in curing rare diseases, there is no absolute hope of surviving. If this was his only chance to see Alysanne and save her, then so be it.

"What must I do?" he asked.

Quaithe stared at him seeing the future and nodded.

* * *

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	53. Chapter 53: Temptations

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.**_

* * *

**Chapter 53: Temptations**

_Jorah's POV_

The Exiled Knight listen carefully to Quaithe's instructions of what he had to do. If he had not had experience in blood magic and dark magic, he would have found this mysterious woman insane. However, after Mirri Maz Duur, the Dragons, Pyat Pree, the Warlocks, and the Undying Ones it's hard to go back being a cynic. From what he gathered, Quaithe will put him in a trance using the glass candle to connect his mind to Alysanne's dream. There he needed to convince Alysanne to wake up or find the object that is binding her there.

"And what does the object look like?" Jorah asked.

"It is something that should not be there," Quaithe answered.

Jorah sighed, wishing she was specific. The only good thing was that the object was not a human or an animal. But questions came of the Undying Ones being in the dream, or the Warlocks. He doesn't know where the dream would be at. Alysanne traveled all her life, other than King's Landing, Dragonstone, and Braavos, there were the Free Cities, then Vaes Dothrak, Qarth, and possibly another version of Slaver's Bay. So, the location may help him find a clue if it were the places where he was there with her.

"How much time do I have?" he asked.

"The dream world will be different from our own." She answered as she pulled out a smooth polished crystal. She murmured something as what was clear now held a slight grey hue. "When the crystal turns black, then you are too late, Jorah the Andal."

Quaithe set the crystal on the table, and Jorah picked it up. It was soft grey, indicating Alysanne's life. It was a bit overwhelming, in a sense, the Queen's life was literally in his hand.

"The Warlocks will try to stop you," she continued. "The world they made might prevent you from speaking the truth. So, find what binds her and make her realize it is all a dream."

"Will she remember? The dream I mean?" he asked.

"Do you remember your dreams?" She replied.

Jorah sighed, knowing the shadow-binder got him there. A part of him hopes that Alysanne remembers. Even if he was going to die, they could have one final moment together. But he needs to get back on track. This was about saving his Queen. The Seven Kingdoms need her, and he vowed to take her home, even if he is not there in person to be there.

Quaithe walked over to the table of potions and reveal a bottle of Shade of the Evening. She poured the magical wine and mixed it with herbs and chanted a spell in High Valyrian. Jorah watched, as she took the cup to the brazier and dabbed her fingers in it then flicked it into the fire. A sizzling could be heard as an aroma of what he could describe as rosemary engulfed the room. When the shadow-binder finished, she escorted Jorah to the makeshift bed that was before the glass candle. She instructed Jorah to sit. The Knight complied as he looks at her.

She set the cup next to him, "Drink, all of it."

Jorah picked up the cup and examined the blue liquid. A slight shudder wracked his body from his previous experience with Shade of the Evening which wasn't so pleasant. Taking a deep breath, he chugged down the magical wine as quickly as possible, gagging slightly from its density and disgusting taste of ink. Finishing the cup, he coughs as his stomach tightened due to the horrendous potion.

"Now lay down, close your eyes, and think of her," Quaithe murmured.

He sighed, doing just that as he laid on the makeshift bed, resting his head on a worn pillow. Closing his eyes and drowning his thoughts about Alysanne. As he was doing this, he could hear Quaithe walked around the room. She came over to him, speaking in High Valyrian before resting her hand on his forehead. Jorah tensed, about to open his eyes but couldn't.

"Think of her, Jorah the Andal," Quaithe murmured. "Think of a good memory."

The sighed took a deep breath, as his thoughts went back to the Dothraki Sea. When the Khalasar made camp, and he took Alysanne aside to train her how to use a sword. His body soon became numb, the blood in his veins becoming cold as his breathing even out. Yet he tried to focus on the memories of his lover. Quaithe continued the incantation, binding his mind to Alysanne's. The room felt like it was spinning, like a child dizzy from twirling around. When the shadow-binder said the last words and tapped his forehead, he felt a pull dragging him away.

Panicked Jorah opened his eyes and gasped. Instead of looking at Quaithe, he stared at a ceiling with carved beams. His head felt like it was still spinning as if he was struck in the head by a mace. Groaning some, he sat up only to stop feeling restrained. Something was on his chest. He looked down to see that it was Alysanne asleep, curled up to him. His eyes widen, examining the room, perceiving it to be western culture and not anything from Central Essos. The characteristic of furnishings doesn't appear to be Pentoshi, so he wasn't in Pentos, nor does it look like Qohor, Myr, Lys, Volantis, or Tyrosh. He tried to find clues where they were when Alysanne stirred.

He stopped, gazing at the woman he loved. Let alone the fact after five months to have human contact even if this was an illusion, a trap to steal his lover's fire. Staring at her, he realized his left arm was wrapped around her. Panicked, he tried to pull it away then stopped, seeing that his arm was clean. There were no traces of Greyscale.

Alysanne stirred as she turned in her sleep, her back to him now. Her nightgown was exposing her back, showing no sign of injuries. The wound from the Daznak pit not there. This was overwhelming, as he carefully climbed out of bed and walked over the window to see where he was. Recognizing the architecture, he knew where they were. Braavos, the wealthiest city of the Free Cities. Quietly walking around, he tried to find the object that could be binding her and get a better understanding of this dream. When he walked over to the desk, he inspects the papers that were a business transaction of silks, leathers, and fabrics.

As he continued, he saw a small painting. This caught his attention, as he picked it up to see the illustration. What he saw surprised him. It was a portrait of them, only they were wearing lavish clothes, and Alysanne most prominently wearing a white and silver gown, similar to what Daenerys wore when marrying Khal Drogo. Inspecting his hand, he saw a gold ring. Putting two and two together, he realized they were married in this illusion. Alysanne did tell him, if Daenerys had passed away and there were no dragons, she would relinquish her claim to the Iron Throne. All she ever wanted was to have a home, and the only place the young Queen felt like that was home, was in Braavos.

"Jorah," a yawn could be heard.

Jorah turned around, seeing Alysanne waking up. She sat up with a stretch, which he got a better look of her. Her Targaryen features prominent, the golden-white hair and indigo eyes, however, something was different. She appeared healthier, not thin, as her breasts were much fuller than he last remembered. She smiled at him, a genuine smile.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She asked, sleep still in her voice.

He opens his mouth to speak, going direct approach of telling her this was all a dream, an illusion from the Warlocks of Qarth. Just as the words were going to roll off his tongue, he began to cough. Alysanne got up, rushing over to him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, taking his face feeling his forehead.

Jorah blushed, having her this close again. Being selfish, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hugging him back.

There was a knock on the door, then opened, "Mama, Daddy, 'ou wakey."

A little boy entered the bedroom with light blonde hair and indigo eyes. Jorah eyes widen, for the boy held more resemblance to him. This was overwhelming, to comprehend that Alysanne deepest desire was to be married to him and have a family of her own. Not being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But somewhere away from Westeros, where there was no war.

"You're awake, my little cub," Alysanne chuckled, as she pulled back from Jorah and picked up the toddler.

"Morning, Daddy," the boy said.

"Uh…morning," Jorah replied, not knowing the boy's name.

"Me hungry," the boy announced.

"All right, what would you like to eat?" Alysanne asked.

"Bread and jam," he said.

Alysanne chuckled, "Oh course Joren, bread and jam."

_Joren,_ Jorah thought. That was the name of his grandfather. He doesn't recall telling Alysanne about that, only his father, mother, and aunt. Not once did he mention his grandparents. His grandfather Joren was a good man, died before Robert's Rebellion. How could Alysanne and the Warlocks know about his grandfather?

"Let's get breakfast," She said, as she carried the boy out of the bedroom.

Jorah rubbed his neck, realizing he did not know as much about Alysanne than he thought. All this time she wanted a simple life, not power. He sat down on a chair, comprehending what has happened. Going over the facts, that in this dream: Alysanne was his wife, they live in Braavos and have a son. If they were in Bear Island, he would have thought it was his dream, although he had to be careful. The attempt to tell her the truth failed. Now he understands why Quaithe warned him about the Warlocks interfering.

Getting up, he searched for some clothes till coming to a wardrobe to get dress, finding the clothes that were suited for him and put them on. Afterward, he left the room in search of Alysanne and Joren. As he walked through the halls, he spotted a garden filled with lemon and other fruit trees. When he arrived into the kitchen, he found Joren laughing hysterically while Alysanne stood there covered in flour.

"Did I miss something?" Jorah asked, trying not to laugh, except a smile betrayed him.

"Someone thought it would be funny to throw sugar. Unfortunately, it was flour." Alysanne muttered.

He couldn't help but chuckle. Seeing her acting so normal, not at all noble or a Queen. Then again, the past few years he has seen her grow into a warrior Queen. Now she stands before him as a mother. Unable to resist, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her cheek staring into her unique eye then kissed her, wanting to take this moment before waking her up.

Later in the day, Alysanne took Joren into the gardens as the two play. Tempting as it was to join them, he knew he doesn't have much time. As he pulled out the stone, seeing it getting darker slightly. So, he searched through the estate, trying to find the object that could be binding Alysanne to this dream. It had to be something that should not be there. Unfortunately, there were a lot of items that appeared out of place.

He entered a small library filled with artifacts. There was Dothraki items, Pentoshi, Tyroshi, Lys, and Westerosi. Especially with a bear rug hung on the wall. On the mantel by the fireplace center was the golden dragon egg. Viserion. Jorah touched the egg and sighed.

_'Could use your help, my friend,'_ Jorah thought.

At the corner of the room, there was a trunk. Jorah went over to it and lifted the lid to see what was inside. Inside he found items during their time in the Dothraki Sea. His clothes, judging from the yellow shirt, kilt, and blue scarf. Along with the burgundy surcoat he gave Alysanne when Viserys ripped most of her clothes. There was other clothing as well, the purple gown with metal links from Qarth. Furs, leathers, carvings, things he remembers during their Dothraki days. Deciding the cursed object is not here; he stood up and continue his search.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I tucked Joren in for his nap and went to find Jorah. Something was off about him. He seemed out of it as if distant all of a sudden. After breakfast, he excused himself, needing to get some work done. I found it strange since we run our business together, and got a head start so that we could spend the Unmasking as a family.

When I found him, he was going through the storage room, where we kept samples of fabrics. He scavenged through the piles of materials, lifting the folds to see what is in between.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning against the door.

Jorah almost tensed, not expecting to be caught as he turned around facing me. Almost like a child being caught in the sweet jar. "Trying to find something."

"Need help?" I asked.

"I don't know what I am looking for," He sighed, rubbing his neck.

"Then, why are you searching if you don't know?" I asked.

Jorah shrugged, "Something feels out of place, and I can't put my finger on it."

I chuckled, walking over to him taking his hand. "I'm sure you will find it. You know how to find things."

He nodded, entwining his fingers through my own. His other hand cradles my cheek, which I leaned into it. Staring into his eyes, seeing so many emotions of love, yet I noticed other emotions. One I haven't seen since I went into labor with Joren. Concern, fear, and desperation.

"Really, what's wrong? You were distant during breakfast?" I asked.

Jorah hesitated, trying to say something only it came out as a cough. He sighed, rubbing his neck, "Just a dream is all. A nightmare."

"Want to talk about it?" I offered.

He paused, thinking about it, "Dreamt about the fighting pits is all. Men in golden masks were attacking the crowd, and you got injured."

_The fighting pits?_ I thought. Suddenly a flash of some memory filled my head. Seeing the same description that Jorah described. Surrounded by men wearing a golden mask, men in black armor holding spears. Daenerys was standing beside me so was Jorah and a dwarf. Along with…dragons?

I grabbed my head, feeling a headache throbbing my head. Jorah caught me, "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yes, just a headache," I said. "Joren can be a little loud when playing."

Jorah nodded as he kept his hold on me. "Let's get you some water."

I nodded as we went to the kitchen. I sat down at the table while he fetched some fresh water. He handed me the glass, which I accept taking a few sips. That vision, what the hell was that? It was almost like the dream I had several months ago.

"That reminds me, the nanny offered to watch Joren tonight so we can enjoy the festivities," I said. "Are you interested? It's been a while since we went out."

He paused, thinking about it and nodded. I smiled, leaning over, and kissed him. Pulling back, I chuckled a little seeing the blush on his cheek. "Well, I'm going to rest for a bit. Joren should sleep for about two hours."

As I got up, Jorah kept hold of my hand. I stopped looking at him, wondering what was wrong. He's been acting strange all day, not spending time with Joren, going through the house searching for something. There was this look in his eyes. Something was bothering him, something he wanted to tell me but couldn't. Last I saw this was when we were in Qarth before the Warlocks exposed his secrets. I sat down on his lap; his arms wrapped around me.

"Seriously, what's the matter?" I asked.

"I just find it hard to believe how we come to this," he answered. "In the beginning, I thought you wanted to reclaim the Iron Throne, to return home."

I cradle his cheek, "Home is not a kingdom; it is not the Iron Throne. Home is the family you and I made. Did we go through our struggles? Yes. But over the years in exile, all I ever wanted was to be happy. To be in the arms with the man I love and children running about."

Jorah leaned into my touch, kissing my wrist.

If Daenerys were still alive along with her family, the invasion to Westeros would have been carried out. While Dany, Drogo, and Rhaego rule over the Seven Kingdoms, I would've been Lady of Dragonstone. All I asked for was our ancestral home. Although the path of a relationship happened with Jorah, then it would be Lady of Bear Island.

"Now, you have two choices, you can join me for a nap or search whatever it is you're searching," I said, with a peck on the lips

"I'll be there in a moment," he said.

I nodded, getting up and headed to the bedroom. Once inside, I took off my vest and started undoing the simple braid. I walked over to the window, getting a view of the lagoon and the city. It was not lavish as Qarth or Pentos, or open like the Dothraki Sea, except Braavos is about moving forward in life, not staying in the past. The past should be remembered but not keeping us back. That is why Braavos is more advanced in their civilization.

A strange sense of being watched could be felt as I turned to the door seeing no one was there. I looked out the window and down the walkway seeing a man leaning against a tree by the lagoon. He wore an unmasking costume of red and black, a Barchetta hat, and a red bauta mask. All other traits were hidden under the decorative cloak. At first, I thought he was staring at the estate's architecture, but the way his head was angled says differently. Possibly an ogler. I rolled my eyes and closed the window for privacy.

Just as I lay in bed, Jorah came into the room though he leaned against the door.

"Have you found in what you were searching?" I asked.

Jorah shook his head, shutting the door and came over to join me on the bed. He kicked off his boots and lay down with a sigh. I moved closer to him, resting my head on his chest. Immediately his arms were wrapped around me. It wasn't long when sleep took hold.

**.o0o.**

"Mama looks pretty," Joren complimented while sitting on the bed,

"Why thank you," I murmured and kissed his cheek.

I was finishing getting dressed for the night of the Unmasking. It wasn't the final night but, having a child doesn't mean we can't go out celebrating every night. Tonight, was for Jorah and me to enjoy the festivities before the entire city is out to celebrate. Already, I was dressed in one of the customs goes, although it wasn't luxurious for our status in business. Then again, we weren't trying to gain attention. Already have enough due to my hair.

Joren smiled and looked at his father, who stood there watching us. Once more, the expression of awe and sorrow was in his eyes. As if he does not want to ruin this moment. I must talk to him about this, wondering what is going on in his head. Anyway, we gave Joren a soft warning to be good to the nanny before we left the estate. Jorah offered me his arm, which I accept after securing my Columbina mask.

We walked through the streets, heading to one of the many squares where the festivities were taking place. All around, people were dressed up in their most elegant clothes, many in purple — Masks all around in honoring the Unmasking of the Braavosi heritage. Music played, as minstrels played their music, performers all about, while vendors offering food and wine was being sold. The aroma of spices and sweets engulfed the air, salivating the senses — the music seducing anyone to dance. I cling closer to Jorah, looking up, staring at his bear mask and into his blue eyes with a smile.

He smiled slightly. We weren't socially active on these pleasures. But the temptation to enjoy the night was enough for us. Even if it is once a year. Entering the square, a crowd gathered dancing to the Braavosi dance. Standing at the side, we observe the performance. A fragrance of the stall selling pastries caught my attention. Unable to resist, I faced Jorah.

"I'm going to see what that stall is selling," I declared.

Jorah nodded as he opens his coin purse and handed me a few coins while I went to see what the treat was.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah watched Alysanne as she walked over to one of the vendors to get a sweet. There was so much happening, as the festivities were becoming a distraction. During the walk, he observes their surroundings, having a strong memory of Braavos in his early years of exile. Everything seemed normal, well, not covered in decorations, in the Unmasking Celebration. Over the years he knew Alysanne, he found her to be an introvert. During Daenerys's Wedding, she sat at the side watching the Dothraki celebrate, at the Xaro Xhoan Daxos party she did socialize but stayed close to someone she knew. And here she was, out in the open, enjoying the energetic festivities.

If it weren't for the fact this was a dream killing that was killing her, he wouldn't wake her. She was happy, in good health, and to wake her to realize this did not really happened sadden him. If this were real, he would allow it. Support her on not taking the Iron Throne. Let her live life to the fullest without the consequences of war.

"You should not be here," a man's voice said. "Both of you should not be here."

Jorah turned around, seeing a man covered in black and red attire, along with the accessories that cover his face and hair. Noting on his bauta mask held details of what resembled scales. The Knight also noticed a sword strapped to the man's side.

"Do I know you?" Jorah asked.

"Never in person," the masked man answered.

"What do you want?"

"To wake the dragoness up, as do many. Time is running out. The Warlocks are trying to make this dream a paradise. The longer she stays, the quicker she dies in the real world."

"How do you know this?"

"The man knows things. Find the cursed object. Destroy it before the Warlocks realize you are not the doppelganger they created."

"Do you know what the cursed object is?"

The Mask man paused, staring at him, "It is the color of the Shade of the Evening. It takes the form of something that is part of a tradition, but the Warlocks got it wrong."

Jorah was cautious wondering if this was another of the Warlocks' tricks. A loud noise of cheering caught him off guard, looking away to see a firebreather doing a trick. He returns his gaze to the stranger only to find the masked man gone. Why would this man come over to lend aid? Was he a trick from the Warlocks or did Quaithe send in help? Either way, this stranger gave him a hint in searching for the cursed object. So, it was blue, and a mistake the Warlocks made. He took the crystal out of his coin purse, seeing the shade that he could compare to steel and not a cloud.

Alysanne came over, holding a pastry, "Was that one of your friends from the Golden Company?"

"Something along those terms," Jorah replied, quickly putting the crystal away.

Alysanne nodded as she took a bite of the pasty. He watched her, smiling slightly, seeing a bit of cream smeared on her upper lip. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her, along with tongue wiping the cream off. When he pulled back, he saw what exposure her mask didn't cover rapidly blush while her indigo eyes widen.

"I might steal a bite," Jorah murmured.

Her lips pucker, suddenly she dabbed her finger in the cream and smeared it on his lips. He couldn't help but chuckled, licking his lips, then sighed. The temptations of this dream were getting to him. He needs to stay focused. However, they were out during the celebration instead at the estate where the cursed object was kept. If he tells Alysanne to head back, it will draw suspicion to the Warlocks. If only he knew who was a Warlock and who was an illusion in this dream. Together they finished the pastry filled with honey and nuts. When they finished the pastry, the dance that was happening the square was over.

Alysanne held longing to join. She looked at him with a silent question. Jorah hesitated; he doesn't know how perfect the Warlocks made his doppelganger. Let alone the fact that he wasn't much of a dancer. A few dances he knows of, but he hasn't danced since Bear Island. Before he could react, Alysanne took hold of his hand and dragged him into the square. A bit of a stumble, not expecting it, and fortunately, the next dance was something he somewhat knew.

_Just tonight, savor this moment,_ Jorah thought.

The two danced, staying as close to one another as possible. Although, Jorah kept his eyes on her when the dance required them to separate. She was happy, smiling, laughing somewhat. The world was spinning fast from all the lights and people. Let alone drinks of wine passing around like water. His senses dulling, yet he stood by her side, savoring this moment. For when they wake from this dream, she'll be back with Daenerys preparing to take back the Iron Throne and he…preparing to end his life before the Greyscale consumes him.

Time went by until Alysanne nearing the excitement stage of drinking. Noticing her steps becoming uneven, giggling, and skin flushed. Jorah thought one more dance before taking her back home. He spun her around, grabbing her hips, lifting her in the air, that caught her by surprise. He chuckled, setting her down, taking her hand in the dance until he noticed a man wearing a porcelain volto mask as its lips were painted blue along with a dark blue robe. The man continues to make way towards Jorah through the active crowd. Jorah was getting a bad feeling it was one of the Warlocks.

Two women wearing a red mask danced over, distracting the Warlock. He noticed their hair color was of a silvery-white. Just as the women spun the Warlock around, the man from earlier appeared out of nowhere, drawing a dagger and slit his throat. The Warlock stumbled, turning around with his hand up to his neck. Over the grey gloves, blood seeped over until falling to his knees. Everyone surrounding the Warlock gasped, Alysanne stood there in shock. More Warlocks appeared, yet the Red Mask man drew his sword and two more men wearing similar mask join in.

"Come," Jorah ordered, out of instinct, grabbing her hand. He kept a tight hold on her hand, as they ran out of the square. Not sure if it was coincidence or the Warlocks were growing suspicious. All he knows that the people in the red scale masks were on their side.

They made some distance, as Jorah pulled Alysanne in an alley away from the rushing crowd. He panted, keeping a tight hold of his lover as his cloak covered their form. He looked down, seeing her catching her breath.

"Faceless men?" She panted.

"Probably, but out of character," Jorah heaved, for he recalled the Faceless Men tried to make their assassination more natural not open.

"I think we had enough fun for the night," she said.

Jorah nodded, keeping a secure hold on Alysanne as they headed back to the estate. The nearest entrance was the one through the gardens. Taking the key, he opens the gate letting her inside first before entering along with locking the gate, securing it so no one would trespass. Once inside, Jorah removed his hat and mask, rubbing his face. Alysanne did the same.

"Other than the chaos, I had fun," she murmured.

"As did I," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it.

The temptation from the dream was getting to him. Seeing her standing there under the moonlight, her gown appropriate though showed her chest and cleavage. He mentally shook his head, needing to stay focused. Planning to get Alysanne to bed then continue his search in finding the cursed object. One that is blue and is part of tradition. However, the moment his lover reached up to kiss him, his sense of control unravels. Getting a good hold of her waist, he pinned her to the wall hidden behind the lemon trees. Two soft thuds being heard from their mask falling to the ground.

His lips claimed her, igniting a new round of sparks deep inside him. Nearly a year had passed since being with her sexually. All his control and resolve vanished, wanting nothing more than taking her here and now. His hands dropped to her hips before slowly rising to her waistline with a provocative pressure. Meanwhile, his lips claim hers shoving his tongue against her own tasting the sweets and wine that were consumed. When his fingertips found the strings in front of her dress, he tugged them, undoing the bodice until they become loose, and shift tugged down revealing her breasts, causing Alysanne to gasp. He didn't stop there. His palms slid to her breast.

Alysanne gasped again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her breathing in near pants, at his mercy, as he fondles her breast. Lips breaking the kiss, Jorah claimed her neck, remembering the spot that made her moan. Lost in the passion, his right hand crawled down, lifting the skirt of the dress sliding it while caressing her thigh when finding the barrier of the small cloth. Tugging on the strings, the fabric came undone, exposing her hidden garden. His fingers slid beneath, in search of that spot. He sighed when he found it, along with her arousal. Not bothering to remove the rest of her clothes, he separated the folds of her sex. One of his fingers dipped tentatively inside her. Alysanne threw her head back, hit the stone brick, and didn't care. She squeezed her eyes shut while holding onto him.

Growling his pleasure, Jorah thrust his finger inside her wanting to see his Queen come undone. He added two more digits while thumb pressed against her clitoris. As he pleasures her with his hand, he leaned down, claiming her lips consuming her cries. In and out, stroking away to find her bliss. Her inner walls were soaking wet while trembling. Twisting his hand and hooking his fingers, he strokes the spot deep inside, adding pressure. Alysanne cried out, gasping his name, her body tensed and convulsed. Jorah smirked, pinning her to the wall for support while watching her lost in orgasm. She panted, breathing laborious until her eyes open silently pleading for more.

Jorah nodded, unleashing himself from the confines of his trousers groaning from relief as he was hard if not desperate. Lifting the skirt up, he picked his lover up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressed her closer. The tip of his cock replaced his fingers. Slowly he eased inside her. Muffled cries tore through her lips while he groaned. Feeling her envelope him in her hot, moist, tight entrance.

As his body took over, speeding up, gaining momentum to move in and out of Alysanne. She moaned each time he plunged into her fiery depth, appreciating each thrust, inviting him back for more. The muffled earnest of the sounds she made touched him. When she moved her hips, lifting them to accept and guide him, he wanted to consume her. Body, spirit, and soul, having her at this moment like a madman. Feeling her hands clinging to his tunic, nails attempting to dig into his flesh. She broke away from the kiss, resting her head on his shoulder gasping and moaning.

"Jorah!" She cried when he thrust harder, changing the angle hitting that spot.

Focusing on that spot, he thrust over and over against it until her walls spasmed around his member and a cry escaped her lips. He dragged her back to the present with a thrust that pushed her against the wall and made her lashes flutter. He felt her shudder as her climax barreled through her, a groan slipped out while roughly grabbing her buttocks. Jorah's hips picked up more speed -faster, harder, as he listens to her soft cries and the sounds of her back hitting the wall – until he drove himself deep and came.

"Alysanne," he groaned, pinning her to the stone.

Hips buck a few times as his load continues to spill inside her. His mind was becoming muddled, filled with memories of their previous lovemaking in the real world, missing how it felt to be inside her. Catching his breath, Jorah locked his mouth to Alysanne. Kissing everything of his feelings, his love for her, whispering her name as ecstasy shuddered through him. He didn't want to let her go as the fog dissolved. Opening his eyes to see Alysanne in his arms, flushed, sweat forming around her neck and cleavage and panting desperately. Her indigo eyes locked to him, as a satisfied smile graced her lips.

"Well…that was…something," she panted.

"Aye," he agreed still panting, yet he was unable to pull out, selfishly wanted to keep her close. His hands lingered on her body, possessively. Jorah felt the rise and fall of each breath she took.

"The Dothraki never left us, making love under the star," she murmured.

"I doubt you want the whole khalasar watching," he chuckled.

Alysanne chuckled as well, "Maybe we can continue using other Dothraki position."

Jorah groaned, feeling the excitement rush through his dick.

_Temptation indeed_, Jorah thought.

* * *

**Can you guess what the cursed object that binds Alysanne to the dream.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	54. Chapter 54: Running Out of Time

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx53**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 54: Running Out of Time**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah woke up to find himself spooning Alysanne. He took a moment watching her, recalling what happened last night at one of the Unmasking festivities. He lost control in the garden, the magic the Warlocks created in this dream tempted him. Alysanne was an addiction, making love to her over and over again until both of them were spent. Jorah sighed, carefully climbing out of bed, and went over to the pile of clothes that were on the ground. Grabbing the coin purse, he checks the stone. It was still the same shade as steel, but how long until it goes darker.

He sighed yet again, rubbing his hand across his face. Thanks to the temptation, he was running out of time. Initially, he was going to tuck Alysanne to bed and continue his search to find the cursed object that bound her to this dream. Thanks to the man with the red mask, he knows it's blue and takes the form that is part of a tradition. Blue usually associated with the Dothraki culture, and since they had some artifacts, it should be a start ever since the Targaryen Sisters joined Khal Drogo's Khalasar assimilating to the culture, especially the tradition of braids and long hair.

He glanced at Alysanne, who was still asleep. Walking back, he adjusted the blanket to cover her before freshening up for the day. It was still early, a habit he had of waking before the sun…well except for when he was exhausted and when he was with Alysanne. He walked over to the window to check the time, seeing the dark grey sky of the early hour. He was lost in thought when something tapped the window out of nowhere. He blinked, as another tap got his attention, realizing someone was throwing pebbles. Staring down, he saw the man from last night.

Jorah had many questions, as he quietly left the bedroom and made his way down. Although he stopped to grab his sword and dagger, it was at the gardens gate did he see the stranger standing there with his arms crossed.

"I was wondering when you would wake, Jorah the Andal," the man said.

Jorah looked at him. He tried to get any details of who this man was. However, the bauta mask covered the stranger's entire face. The only trait he could get was his dark blue eyes and that he was pale skin along with his accent sounding like it was from the southern part of Westeros. Nothing else.

"Who are you?" Jorah asked.

"Someone who does not want the Dragoness to die," the man answered. "We have no time. You need to find the cursed object or find a way to wake her up. Neither of you should be in the veil of the living and death. "

"The Veil of the living and death?"

The Mask Man sighed, "Some call it limbo, where those on the brick of death resides until the Stranger decides to wake them or not."

Jorah scowled when hearing this.

"Also, the Warlocks are growing suspicious," the mad added. "You need to act the part while still searching for the cursed object. "

"How can they know, is it the boy?" he asked.

The Mask Man shook his head, "The boy is not a threat. He is not a Warlock or a spy. A mere illusion that Alysanne always wanted." He then sighed. "I wouldn't blame her, wanting this dream to be real. Not after the mistakes Rhaegar and the Mad King made or the suffering from Viserys' abuse."

Jorah noticed the sadness that shimmer in the stranger's eyes. One a guilty man would express when knowing of their mistake and accepting that they were at fault. Along with personally knowing the individual. Hearing that this was the veil of the living and the dead, he had to ask.

"Are you a spirit?" he asked.

The Mask Man nodded, "The dead always watch over the living or at least for those who are in purgatory."

Due to the location, he had to ask, "Ser Willem Darry?"

The Mask Man shook his head, "No, although he would've been proud of the girls in how far they've come."

"Then who are you?" he asked. "How do I know you are not a Warlock?"

"A Warlock wouldn't have killed their own brother, not when their brotherhood is dying," the Mask Man answered. "I will tell you this; I was a Targaryen supporter. I stood by Rhaegar until I was forced into exile."

_Jon Connington,_ Jorah guessed.

"You must hurry and play the part. I and the others will do our best to keep the Warlocks away." The Mask Man said. "Try bringing up memories. Subtle events may trigger something."

Jorah was about to say something when the stranger snapped his arms through the gate's bars grabbing his shirt and yanked into the metal. Dark blue eyes glared at him; the strangers voice much serious. "The Dragon has three heads. If Alysanne dies, the Long Night shall consume the entire world. Don't fuck this up, Mormont."

The Mask Man gave a shove and left.

Jorah scowled, adjusting his shirt trying to understand who this stranger was. A Targaryen supporter? A lot of Targaryen supporters who refused to bend the knee were executed by Tywin Lannister or died in battle other than Willem Darry and Jon Connington who escaped. Except he knows one of them was dead.

He returned inside, heading towards the library to recheck the artifacts. See if there was anything that was blue. As he walked through the hall, he heard soft footsteps behind him. A hand on the handle of his dagger, he turned around seeing Joren standing there holding a stuffed bear. The exiled knight sighed, releasing his hold on the handle. Joren looked at him, tilting his head.

_If only he were real,_ Jorah sighed sadly.

All his life, he wanted a family. He was young when he first married, a wealthy match his father made with House Glover. Bear Island was suffering from the harsh winter and needed the funding. There was a sense of pressure by the community, relentlessly, to produce an heir. There were miscarriages. And yet, they kept on trying. Both were fifteen; he knew nothing of women or their bodies.

Gilliane, bless her soul, tried to adapt to Bear Island, she tried to be one with the shield maidens, and though they were learning to grow how to love, they held more of a friendship. She died ten years later. It was so traumatizing that he held off from marrying, which his father Jeor understood. Jorah rarely speaks of it. Then came Lynesse Hightower, winning her hand at the Tourney in Lannisport after Robert's Rebellion.

Lynesse was beautiful, young, and healthy, and after many years of being alone and craving a family, he did not realize the mistake he made. Lust destroyed his honor and duty. Then there was Alysanne, a Targaryen Queen who was a product of incest. During their relationship, he learned about the Queen's previous pregnancy that was terminated by Viserys drunken rages. She stated she wanted a family of her own, just not with Viserys. When her wicked brother was dead, and their relationship grew serious, he knew there was a possibility of a child. Until learning about Alysanne taking elixirs of Lys to prevent pregnancy. Not against Jorah, but as a precaution if her enemies attempt to rape her. After meeting Mero of Braavos, he understood.

And now he was in this dream, where a little boy who resembled him stood. Knowing the Warlocks were watching, sensing if the Jorah they made goes out of character or not. So, he walked over to the boy and knelt to his level.

"You're up early," Jorah noted.

"The sky's awake," Joren mumbled.

"That it is," Jorah agreed.

"Is Mama awake?" Joren asked.

"She's sleeping," Jorah answered, with a slight smile. "Are you hungry?"

Joren nodded as he hugged his bear. The Exiled Knight had to admit the Warlocks did an excellent job in making the child adorable. Reminded him of the stories of the changelings. Very convincing, when he has the upper hand of knowing Joren is not real. Much as it saddens him. Remembering yesterday what the boy ate, he picked him up.

"Bread and jam?" Jorah offered.

"And bacon!" Joren added.

Jorah chuckled somewhat, "And bacon."

He took the boy to the kitchen to get him some breakfast.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I woke up, finding that the bed was empty. I climbed out of bed and put on a nightgown and robe before walking out. I stopped by Joren's room, finding his bed was empty too. Jorah must have taken Joren to get breakfast. At first, I was wondering what was going on with my husband, for he was acting strangely yesterday. But after last night, it could have been nothing. When something is bothering him, he won't stop until he confirms everything was secured. It brought back memories in Qarth, the moment Xaro was flirting with me and Pyat Pree doing that gem parlor trick at the party Jorah was on guard.

Anyway, I made my way to the kitchen seeing Joren sitting on the counter while Jorah stood by the woodfire stove, cooking some bacon. Jorah was telling another story of his previous adventures. Sometimes I wonder how many adventures Jorah had experience, at this rate Joren might know his father more than I.

"Even came across the Unsullied," Jorah said, still unaware I was there.

"Unsull-e," Joran tried to say.

"Some say the Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world," Jorah continued.

A slight headache came out of nowhere, as flashbacks happened. Seeing a platoon of men in black leather armors, standing like statues holding spears and shields in hot weather. Another came of a man walking over removing his helmet of a young man from the Summer Isles. For a moment, I thought they were the Qohor Unsullied; however, the slave soldiers in Qohor armor were different. Theirs resembled more like lizards than scarabs.

"Mama," Joren called out disrupting the flashbacks.

_What the hell was that_? I thought.

Jorah turned around, giving a smile till noticing I was pinching the brim of my nose to alleviate the headache.

"You all right?" Jorah asked.

"Just a headache, I might've had too much wine last night," I answered.

"More than just wine," Jorah teased.

I chuckled, remembering what happened in the garden, "Wouldn't be surprised if there is a little one on the way."

Jorah's mouth dropped slightly; blush dusted his check before looking away. I chuckled and walked over to Joren, taking him in my arms to hug him. Joren gave a hug back, giving me a somewhat sloppy kiss.

"After last night, it's best we stay in today," Jorah suggested.

"Agreed," I said. "Might as well polish and dust over the trophies and artifacts. Give a good cleaning."

"Do you need some help?" Jorah offered.

"You and cleaning," I asked, raising a brow in a teasing manner.

Jorah shrugged. I chuckled as we ate breakfast together. Once cleaning up the kitchen, Joren and I got dressed for the day. In the library, Joren was in his corner playing with his toys while Jorah and I went over the trophies that required some polishing and dusting. Usually, the servants do the cleaning, although our trophies from Central Essos were intimidating to them. A previous servant almost cut her finger off when improperly polishing an arakh. So, I took charge of tending the trophies, weapons, and artifacts.

As we cleaned, I've noticed Jorah was focusing certain items that were blue. On occasion, he would look up at me as if trying to see a reaction. Again, something has been off about him. I must confront him about this later, having an idea to do so. Once I finished doing a brass statue, I got up to the mantel to collect the golden dragon egg. It was hard to sell the other two eggs. All three were a wedding gift from Magister Illyrio to Daenerys. It was an act for survival, as much as I tried to keep much of Daenerys things that were not burned in the funeral pyre. However, I couldn't sell the golden egg. There was a moment, except I couldn't.

Picking up the golden egg, I stared at it. It wasn't pure gold, more of bronze and gilded steel. As I held it, I stared at the intricate patterns that resembled scales. I fell into a trance, tracing my fingers along with the markings. A strange aura was coming off the egg as if it was still alive. As if the draglet is swirling around in its shell waiting for its rider or mother's fire. There was a soft whisper echoing in my head.

_"Wake up, please wake up."_ A female voice softly cried.

A hand touched my shoulder startles me. The egg fell from my hands except it was quickly caught by Jorah who scared me from that.

"Sorry," Jorah said, handing back the egg.

I blinked a few times did I hear…Dany? These strange visions and now Daenerys's voice? What the hell is going on with me? I haven't dealt with a possible madness scare since striking Viserys in Vaes Dothrak. When I thought I was dreaming of Visenya Targaryens and hearing her voice. It was at Daenerys' funeral when it come to an end.

"I need to get some fresh air," I said, leaving the library and went out to the gardens.

Once outside, I sat under a lemon tree and took several deep breaths. So much has been happening as of late. The vivid dreams of my sister being alive, Jorah acting strangely, these strange visions, the headaches, the attack at the square, and now hearing voices. I must be going mad; it's the only logical explanation. For years I worried that one day I would snap and become my father. It was one of the reasons why I abdicated. To reduce the stress that could lead to the temptation. Taking a few deep breaths, I leaned against the tree and closed my eyes, trying to meditate.

The sound of the festivities could be heard, listening to the faint music, laughter, and cheers — the birds chirping in the trees. The winds were tasseling the branches of the tree. The smell of the lemons engulfing my senses until my body started to relax. I still held the golden dragon egg, tracing the marking of the scale ridges.

My body relaxed, feeling numb. Suddenly there was this strange feeling over my body. As if dry cold hands were grasping my form. All the strength had left my limbs. I could not move. Even my heart ceased to beat. The egg in my hands started to pulse, then turn warm, then grew hot, burning hot like an ember taken from a firepit. A sound of a roar bellowed, along with shrieks that were inhuman, like the high thin papery voices of the Undying Ones crying out. When I snapped out of the trance, I looked around seeing the garden was empty. There was no one, not even walking past the iron gate.

I then turned my focus to the dragon egg, feeling the heat from its shell. As if the egg was placed in the fire. It was noted that fire and burning objects cannot hurt me. Learning that the first time when Viserys tossed me into the firepit. Still, what just happened? I felt exhausted all of a sudden. The energy I had a moment ago vanished.

Shaking my head, I stood up and secured the eggs seeing it was close to the hour of the second meal. Standing up, I plucked a few ripe lemons off the tree and went inside to start prepping lunch. Although, I stopped at the front of the door where a few wandering vendors come by, selling fish and other produce. Just as I purchased a few items, I noticed a familiar person wearing black and red attire. Not taking the risk, I rush inside, locking the door.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah pulled out the crystal when Joren ran to get another toy. Don't get him wrong, he found the child innocent, but knew he wasn't real. As much as the dream made him feel so. During the distraction, he checks the crystal, and his eyes widen for it was the shade he would compare to Iron. Something caused the color to darken drastically. Out of instinct, he told Joren to stay here and rushed to find Alysanne.

She was not in the garden. He rushed through the bedroom, seeing her absent, and continue his search in panic. Quaithe stated the dream would be longer than the real world; it has been two days, so the crystal shouldn't have changed to that shade so rapidly. Something happened.

It was when he barged into the kitchen, as the door slammed open banging the wall. The sound startled Alysanne who was removing the scales of a fish. She then cried out, accidentally cutting her left hand. She started cursing, almost like a sailor between the common tongue, Dothraki, and Valyrian. Jorah winced, as he came over to inspect the wound, seeing a nasty cut from her pointer finger to thumb. He led her outside to the hand pump, grabbing the handle pumping it a few times to wash the hand. Alysanne hissed from the cold water. The blood and scales washed off.

"Mind telling me why you barged in like that?" Alysanne asked bitterly.

"I thought I heard a scream," Jorah lied.

"A scream?" Alysanne asked. "Where's Joren?"

"In the library," Jorah answered as he continued to wash her hand.

Once the bleeding reduced, he got a better look seeing the wound wasn't deep, no need for stitches. He then stopped when seeing the ring on her left finger. The wedding ring being gold with a blue gem on top for a moment was glowing. He then realized his error, the cursed object, a blue item that takes the form of tradition, but the Warlocks got it wrong. Jorah was a Northman, even if from a Noble house, Mormonts were not rich and he would have kept to the tradition from his family. If he were to marry Alysanne, he would have carved the ring of betrothal or reforge a metal from home a piece of home. In his case, his key from Mormonts Keep. It wasn't an artifact or a trophy, but a wedding band that was trapping Alysanne to the dream.

Now there was another problem. How can he get the ring off her without her noticing? From all his accounts, noble women hardly take off their marital bands. He looked at Alysanne, seeing her still annoyed that he startled her, yet she appeared tired. Almost ready to fall asleep. He suppressed a scowl, taking the linen scarf off his neck and wrapped it around her hand, bandaging it.

"You look exhausted, why don't you get some rest," he recommended.

Alysanne hesitated, "I'd rather not."

"Why not?" he asked.

"I…I startled myself in the garden. Lost my train of thought and felt like somebody was touching me." She answered as she corrected the bandage.

Jorah tried not to scowl. He assumed the Warlocks tried to steal some of her life force to quicken the process of killing her. It was the only logical explanation of why the crystal turn darker.

"It's nothing, probably on edge from what happened last night at the square," she said, then sighed. "I shouldn't lie. We promised not to hold any secrets."

"You can tell me," he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She sighed as she hugged him, resting her head on his chest. Jorah wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't know if I'm over thinking of having madness again or not. The past few days… I've been getting these flashbacks…of us…and other people. Seeing Daenerys still alive. In the library, when I held the egg…I thought I heard her voice. She was telling me to wake up. And in the garden…I thought I heard a roar and something grabbed me. Am I going Mad?"

_She's remembering,_ Jorah thought. He gently tilted her chin, looking into her indigo eyes. "Never. You are the Dragoness of the West. The Breaker of chains," he can feel his throat clench trying to prevent him from talking as a cough rolled, so he stopped to kiss her. When he felt the restraint receding, he continued, "The rightful Queen to the Iron Throne. Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and…" A cough escapes as he turned away. He waited a moment then looked her hard in the eyes. "And…Mhysa."

"Mhysa?" she repeated, then groaned, grabbing her head. Jorah held her, concluding these headaches were her memories trying to come back. He continues to hold her, except her legs collapsed than he guided her on the ground and held her.

_You need to remember,_ Alysanne. Jorah thought. _You need to wake up. You're dying. The longer you stay in this dream, you will die. Your sister needs you. Your people need you._

"Mama?" Joren called out walking into the room.

Jorah mentally cursed since the boy was a distraction. Although he was not the cursed object, the child is what keeping Alysanne here. She took a few deep breaths and looked at him.

"I'm fine, sweet boy," Alysanne as she stood up to hug the child.

Jorah sighed knowing tonight while Alysanne sleeps he will wake her up. Let his love enjoy this moment before returning to the real world. The Warlocks tried to kill her. Whatever happened in the garden, something prevented it? He stood up, seeing the golden egg on the counter. For a moment, he thought he saw it move.

_Viserion,_ Jorah thought. _Always there to protect her._

The rest of the day was spent acting like it was a normal day. Jorah allowed it, trying to tire out Alysanne so she would be in a deep sleep. When night came, after tucking Joren to bed, they went to their room. So many thoughts were running through his head in what he had to do. This was it. His last moments with Alysanne before reality takes hold. He walked over to his lover, who sat by a vanity, brushing her hair.

"Hopefully tomorrow will be better," she said.

"It will," he promised, playing along with the moment. He stood behind her, resting his hands on her shoulder. "Tomorrow, we can go to the market."

Alysanne nodded as she took his hand and kissed it. Jorah guided her up and held her in his arms. Wanting to savor these last moments, he kissed her, expressing all his love and devotion. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed, making love to her for the last time. It wasn't passionate like last night; it was soft and gentle. He watched and felt her writhing in pleasure under him.

After making love, he held her in his arms for the last time. He was waiting until she fell into a deep slumber. He watched her for a moment, savoring the peace written on her face. No signs of stress, worry, or fear. How she should sleep without enemies wanting to tear her down and kill her. If he recalls the visions she saw in the House of the Undying, he knew a greater threat would come that would need the Dragon Sisters even if it means sacrificing this paradise.

He kissed the top of her head, "All I've ever wanted was to serve you. I love you. I'll always love you."

With one more kiss, he removed the ring from her finger. As he held it, he sensed a dark atmosphere from the gem. Quickly and quietly, he got out of bed and changed back into his clothes. Once dressed, he walked over to the window seeing the Mask Man standing outside in the street. Grabbing his sword and dagger, he stopped once last time at the door, taking a selfish glance at Alysanne asleep.

His heart ached at this possibility the Warlocks created. A world where they were together and had a son. However, all dreams must come to an end. So, mustering all his strength, he left the room, closing the door, so when she wakes, she would be back in Meereen. Back to being Queen Alysanne Targaryen, not Alysanne Mormont.

Outside in the warm climate, the sounds of the Unmasking could be heard. At the gate, the Mask Man stood, which Jorah unlocked the entrance letting the stranger inside.

"Have you found it?" the Mask man asked.

Jorah nodded, presenting the ring.

The Mask Man took hold of the ring, examining the gem, "Are you sure?"

"If I were to marry her, the ring would've been made from the key of my home," Jorah answered.

"Replacing a location to an actual person," the Mask Man noted. "You Northmen have more symbolism and tradition than anyone in Westeros."

Jorah ignored that comment, "How do we destroy it?"

"By magic," the Mask Man said. "Take me to the dragon egg."

Cautious, he led the stranger to the library where Viserion's egg was on the mantel. The two men enter, as Jorah built a fire and the Mask Man took hold of the dragon egg. By the time the fire was ablaze and thriving, the Mask Man set a handkerchief on the ground, placing the ring in the center. Next gave Jorah a hammer that was kept hidden under the man's cloak. Jorah was confused, as the stranger set the egg into the fire.

"Destroy it," the Mask Man instructed. "Destroy both the band and gem, then toss it in the fire."

Jorah nodded as he glances at the ring. Taking a deep breath, he hovers the hammer over the gem, before lifting it slamming it on the piece of jewelry. Three more strikes later, the blue gem was shatter, followed by the shrieks. Not wasting a moment, he grabbed the handkerchief containing the shattered jewel and tossed it in the fire. The orange flames, turning blue as it combusts. Both men were shoved back, seeing a decaying figure scream stretching out its hand towards them until it was consumed by the fire.

And then there was nothing.

The fire dimmed out, leaving a petrified dragon egg surrounded by embers. The sounds of the Unmasking ceremony could faintly be heard in the background. Jorah expects that the room would fade and when he closes his eyes, he expects to be back in the Orange Shores with Quaithe. He did just that, however, when he opens them, he was still in the library. He tried again; once more, he was still in the room. Jorah immediately took the crystal out of the pocket, recalling earlier it was the shade of Iron. Both men looked at the crystal, and their eyes widen. Inside it was black as night, practically onyx.

They were too late.

* * *

**What did you guys think?**

**Have you figured out who the Mask Man is yet?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	55. Chapter 55: The Gods Intervention

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_Languages:_**

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 55: The Gods Intervention**

_Meereen_

It has been three days since the poisoning. Daenerys continues to be by Alysanne's side not leaving her alone. The Blue Graces and apothecary were treating her. The antidote was still in the process of being made. The poison the Warlock's used was rare in Meereen. So, they were not adequately trained in making the antidote. As time went on, Ser Barristan, Missandei, and Tyrion tried to keep the peace in Meereen. The city was still unaware that their Queen laid dying at the top of the pyramid. Although, there have been questions on why Viserion was wailing in agony. Rhaegal and Drogon trying to ease their brother who senses his rider's pain.

Daenerys had fallen asleep. As she slouched over, head resting on the bed while holding her sister's hand. She never let go, in case her sister does wake up. A peculiar dream clouds her mind as if it were happening now. During the night, a shadowy apparition entered the room. Its forms resembled a human dressed in dark robes, it's hood up and veil masking the person's face. The entity glided over to the bed, hovering over the unconscious woman. Lifting its skeleton hand, it gently cradles Alysanne's face.

"Alysanne Targaryen," it spoke, it's voice impossible to tell if man or woman. "Long you live in suffering. Long you live through anguish. In those time, you aided others over yourself. You have done all you can and deserve your place in the Fathers golden hall."

The Stranger lifted its veil, revealing its face that of a skull and eyes shining bright like the stars. The God of Death tucks a strand of hair off of Alysanne's face.

"When the dream ends, you'll be with your family again," The Stranger whispered, then sung a hymn. "Wither and decay… End this destiny. Break these earthly chains and set the spirit free. The spirit free..."

The God of Death leaned forward, pressing its teeth along Alysanne's lip as if it was a kiss. When the entity pulled back, an arduous sighed escaped her lips. Her chest deflating for the last time, never to rise and fall again. The Stranger stood up, turning away to collect the next soul that needs release. Just as the Stranger reached the window, the god stopped facing Daenerys as its eyes turned red.

Daenerys gasped, waking from her nightmare. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes, not expecting such a dream. Once more, she was not one for religion. Not to the same degree as her sister or previous family members. Never feeling like the gods have done anything for them. After wiping the sleep from her eyes, she stared at Alysanne.

That was when Daenerys noticed Alysanne wasn't breathing. No weak laborious breaths, nor her chest expanding and deflating. Scared, she placed her hand over her sister's face feeling not a single breath.

"No…no…no. Alysanne, please, you can't die." Daenerys pleaded as she crawled in shaking her sister's corpse. "No. No. NO!"

A sob escaped her lips as she held her sister. Her wails echoing through the Apex, as Ser Barristan, Tyrion, Missandei, Grey Worm, and Daario barged into the room. The warriors drew their weapons, thinking it was an attack, only to find Daenerys sobbing in despair as she held her sister. Ser Barristan came over, placing a hand on Alysanne's neck, feeling no signs of a pulse. He looked up at the others with a frown, shaking his head. Missandei gasped covering her mouth, Grey Worm tensed not sure how to respond to this, Daario bowed his head, and Tyrion…he knew this was going to happen, but deep down he hoped it didn't.

Ser Barristan moved over to Daenerys trying to separate the Khaleesi from her sister.

"Daenerys," Ser Barristan said. "This isn't Alysanne. She is gone."

"I can't let her go. She can't be dead. She promised to take me home," Daenerys sobbed.

"Let go and hold onto me," Barristan advised as he took hold of the Khaleesi, and guided the Queen's body down.

Daenerys cried, clinging to Ser Barristan who held her. Tyrion came over to the bed, grabbing the sheets and adjusted it to cover the late Queen. An agonizing roar could be heard follow a loud on the Great Pyramid. Viserion forced his head inside the room through the balcony amber eyes looking around, trying to find his rider. Everyone stepped back afraid what the dragon would do, seeing him sniffing the air, and curling the scaly lips to reveal its teeth. Only to stop at the bed seeing Tyrion attempt to cover Alysanne's remains.

Viserion shook his head, shaking violently as he tried to enter more. However, due to his size, his shoulders got stuck by the balcony. The dragon roar and snarled desperate to reach his rider. Everyone covered their ears from the loudness, trying to avoid the destruction of the dragon. The Unsullied rushed in about to attack when Daenerys jumped off, stopping them.

"No, wait!" she yelled, standing in between.

She knew what Viserion is going through. Maybe not the same extent, but to lose family and grasping that they are gone.

"Daario, bring Alysanne to Viserion," She ordered.

"Daenerys..." the Sellsword caution.

"Do it!" she snapped.

Daario sighed as he walked over to the bed, carefully picking up Alysanne and carried her over to Viserion. The dragon stopped, pulling back some until the sellsword placed the remains before him. The golden dragon stared the body, gently nudging it to get a response. Like he used to do as a draglet and toddler days. No response, no sound of protest. Hearing no breathing, the sound of her heartbeat or anything. Viserion shook his head and gave another deafening shriek. Once more people covered their ears. The dragon opens his mouth, flames illuminating which everyone feared until the dragon pulled his head out of the room breathing fire while flapping his wings in despair.

Daenerys sobbed as Rhaegal and Dragons shrieks and roars joined their brother in mourning.

"We better prepare for the funeral," Tyrion finally spoke.

He walked over to the Unsullied advising they collect the body. Just as a few of the Unsullied came forward, Viserion's head shot back in, almost biting the men. A warning growled rumbled in his chest, eyes narrowing that threaten anyone who dares come near Alysanne.

Tyrion came over to Daenerys.

"Your Highness, we must make preparations before the body decays," Tyrion advised.

Daenerys shook her head, still comprehend her sister was dead.

"I know how you're feeling," the dwarf said, resting a hand on her arm.

Daenerys pulled her arm back, "How would you know how I am feeling. You murdered your own father. My sister was taken from me. All because I brought the dragons back. And now she's dead!"

"This is not your fault," Daario tried to reason.

"It is," Daenerys said. "If I had only listened."

Everyone did not know what she meant. Wondering if this happened before the Targaryen Campaign. The sound of footsteps could be heard as the doors open, revealing the high red Priestess, Kinvara and two of her priests standing beside her.

_"Valar Morghulis,"_ Kinvara greeted.

_"Valar Dohaeris,"_ the Unsullied replied.

"Kinvara," Tyrion said surprised. "Why are you here?"

"I came to help. The Lord of Light told me in the flames that Alysanne Targaryen was dying." Kinvara said.

"You're a bit late," Daario muttered.

"I am on time," Kinvara said. "Alysanne Targaryen is the one who was promised. From the fire, she was reborn to remake the world and defend for the living in the Great War."

"Can't do that if she is a corpse," Daario countered.

"The fires of the dragon are the purification, and I offer my services in her resurrection," Kinvara explained.

Daenerys walked over to her, "You can bring her back? How?"

"If the Lord of Light allows it," Kinvara corrected. "But I must warn you, she will not be the same. For when one dies and is resurrected, a part of their soul is lost in the darkness."

The Mother of Dragons paused, taking the Red Priestess's warning. She looked at Viserion, who was mourning. Was she willing to take the risk to bring back her sister? Can she live with herself again and allow blood magic to resurrect the dead? The last time she attempted to use blood magic, was when Drogo died. Mirri Maz Duur tricked her, bring Drogo's body back to life but not his spirit. It cost her Rhaego and her fertility.

Kinvara rests her hand on Daenerys's shoulder, "I assure you; the Lord of Lord does not have a price. My Lord sees if the fallen is worthy to complete his cause. For the night is dark and full of terrors. The terrors your sister saw in the House of the Undying."

She had to make the decision. All her life, Alysanne has been protecting her. Raising her, guiding, loving, being sister, and mother all the time. Now it was time to make the decision. She didn't want to be the last Targaryen. She won't allow it. She faced Kinvara.

"Do it. Bring her back."

"Your Highness," Ser Barristan objected. "You mustn't…"

"I don't care! I want my sister back, and I will have her back!"

The Small Council was baffled by this.

Kinvara nodded as her ruby in her necklace glowed softly.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Something grabbed me by the leg, yanking me awake. I gasped, sitting up seeing a corpse of the Undying Ones crawling onto the bed and over. I scream from the top of my lungs, kicking them away. I tried grabbing the dagger that was kept under my pillow, except it wasn't there. I always slept with a knife, ever since sailing to Astapor, I always had a knife underneath my pillow. More of the Undying grabbed hold, their cold, dry hands pinning me down. I screamed, trying to break free. One on top hovers over my face as his hand grabbed it roughly. His mouth elongated, exposing his blue tongue and blacken teeth. My eyes widen in fear thinking this was the end.

Just as I think it would be the end, a sword was stabbed through him. The Undying One shrieked then vanished in a puff of smoke. Two men killed the other four and turned to face me. I panted, covering myself with the blanket discovering I was naked. I was utterly confused, as if two lives, two memories were being fused into one.

"Easy, deep breath," one of the men said, as he sat next taking my arms.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness to realize it was Jorah. I pulled back, "No, this must be a trick. You aren't here."

"Alysanne," Jorah said.

"No, last I saw you, you left to find Dany. You left to find a cure," I yelled.

"You remember," Jorah sighed in relief.

"Breaking the ring must have broken the seal that suppressed her memories," the second man guessed.

"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" I demanded.

"You were poisoned," Jorah explained. "The Warlocks put you in a sleep-like death, as your mind was trapped in the dream and steal your life."

"Steal my life?" I asked.

"Your fire," the second man explained. "You were born of magic, your fire immunity, and ability to communicate with the dead. They wanted that magic so they could resurrect the Undying Ones. The Shadow-binder known as Quaithe linked Ser Jorah's mind to yours. However, they put a strong charm that prevented you from remembering your true life. He had to find the cursed object that binds you to the Veil of the Living and the Dead or try to make you remember."

I stared at Jorah, touching his face in which he leans into cradling my hand, "So you're not an illusion?"

Jorah shook his head, "Not for the past two days."

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"I tried, but the magic made it difficult," Jorah answered. "I'm sorry, Alysanne, but I have failed you."

"Failed me? How could you have failed me?" I asked.

Both men paused, then looked at me.

"I was too late," Jorah explained as he took my hand. "The crystal Quaithe gave me…I misread the colors."

"No, that was not it," the Mask Man said. "The Warlocks and the Undying Ones tried to accelerate the draining process. The moment we destroyed the ring, they finished her life force."

I comprehended their words then stopped looking at them, "Are you saying…I'm dead?"

The Mask Man nodded, while Jorah looked down ashamed. The news felt like someone stabbed me in the stomach. No…no, I can't be dead. I can't abandon Daenerys or my army or Viserion. By the seven, Viserion. The separation…what if he goes feral and wild, destroying Meereen? I grabbed my head, yanking my hair while shaking it. This can't be happening.

"Mama?" a soft scared voice called out.

All eyes turned to the door where the little boy stood. My heart ached, for the past few days I thought Joren was my son. Except he wasn't, he was an illusion. The Warlocks used my deepest desires against me. My desire to have a family. I burst into tears, unable to look at Joren after realizing the truth that it was all a lie. A lie that killed me.

The Mask Man went over, escorting the boy back to his room. Jorah and I remained as he held me in his arms. I tensed, pulling away, remembering he had Greyscale. Jorah guessed what I was thinking and rolled his sleeve, exposing clean skin.

"I'm not contagious, not in this dream at least," Jorah assured, as he hugged me again.

"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have come." I cried clinging to his chest.

"I've sworn to protect you, fight for you, and kill for you. No matter the cost," he murmured.

"Why?" I sobbed.

Jorah lifted my chin to look at him, "Because I love you. Not because you are a Queen, but because you are the woman I love."

Before I could say anything, he placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I was still overwhelmed, unable to kiss him back. Once he finished, he pulled back with a sigh.

"Let's get you dressed," Jorah advised.

I nodded as I got out of bed and went over to the wardrobe to put on some fresh clothes. I didn't bother with a corset, as I put on a small cloth, skirt, and tunic, using a cincher to keep the attire together along with a pair of boots. My Targaryen sword was in the corner of the room, which I grabbed, securing it to my hip. We left the room in search for the Mask Man, wondering where he went when we came upon a woman wearing a red mask stood in the hall where Joren's room was. She nodded to the Mask Man before going inside.

"What's going on, who are these people?" I asked.

"Spirits," Jorah answered. "They're on our side."

The Mask Man came over to us, "It's best we leave her and join the others. See if there is another way to get Ser Jorah back to his body."

Jorah tensed, "What?"

"Your body is still alive, Mormont. You do not belong here. Only the dying or the dead can roam this realm." The Mask Man explained.

Jorah shook his head, "I'm not leaving her."

"Jorah- "I started.

"Alysanne, the Greyscale has already reached my chest and back. I'm dying either way." Jorah said. "Anyway, Quaithe said that if you died, we both are trapped here."

I bowed my head ashamed feeling like this was all my fault.

"We must go to the Temple of Valyria. Hopefully, the others can figure this out," the Mask Man said.

"The boy?" I asked.

"Rhaena will be watching him," The Mask Man answered with a small smile.

_Rhaena… that is a Targaryen name,_ I thought.

I nodded. Even though Joren was an illusion, he felt so real. The Warlocks were cruel in meddling with my deepest desire, messing with my motherly instincts. I am entirely done with magic. The only type of magic I will accept is the Valyrian magic of the Dragonlords. Since the only magic that is used, is through the connection between dragon and rider. Spells that give the command to the dragons to obey.

The Mask Man lead us out into Braavos and secretly through the streets beneath the shadows. Avoiding the Unmasking Festivities as a precaution of any remaining Warlocks are about. As the Stranger states, even if my body was dead, my fire still burns that they will try to take it. Apparently, as the men destroyed the cursed object, the Undying Ones prevented it by their attack this evening. Neither of them expected them to attack.

We journey through the alleys and small bridges until arriving at a small temple. Braavos was known for a hundreds of different gods. Of religion. The Temple of the Moonsingers is the foremost of these, being the faith of the slave women who prophesized the creation of Braavos. There were other temples as well, from the Lord of Light, Lady of Lys and others. There were numerous, yet, less numerous even some forgotten faiths still have temples deep in the heart of the city. One is the temple of the Valyrian Gods. Ser Willem never allowed Viserys, Daenerys, and I to go see the temple, fearing it would draw danger to us. It was small, not like the one in Meereen. Still the statues of the dragon gods in their armor. In the center was a fire pit where it was believed it used to hold the fire of dragons through the centuries until it went out. Now, as we enter, the flames were ignited along with other people in the exotic architecture hall.

Everyone in the room wore clothes of red and black. Some fully dressed in the Unmasking while others simply wore red masks with dragon resemblance. All having white hair of shades between gold and silver. Even their eyes were in different shades of purple. I was utterly confused, wondering who these people were. All eyes stared at us, speaking in hush whispers.

"Who are they?" I whispered to Jorah.

"Spirits," Jorah softly replied. "Or so I've been told."

One of the Spirits came forward to us. He wore a dark crimson overcoat and black tunic. A red cloak hung over his shoulder as the pin was a rondel engraved with a three-headed dragon. His Mask hidden his face, yet his purple eyes were a shade that reminded me Mothers.

"Um…do I know you?" I asked.

"No, never in person even though you have heard of me," the man said. He turned around facing the others. "Remove your mask. She is one of us now."

Everyone nodded as they removed their masks, revealing their faces. Again, none of them I could recognize. The last person to remove their mask was the one who has been helping Jorah. He was hesitant, as he took off his hat and scarf, delaying the reveal until unmasking himself. My heart stopped, feeling like death came for the second time. There stood my own brother, Rhaegar.

"I wish our reunion could have been under different circumstances, sweet sister." Rhaegar greeted.

My body shook and fists clenched. So many emotions rushing through my veins. I don't know what happened. It was a blur as I lunged forward, punching Rhaegar in the face. Another attempt, as I lifted my fist to punch him when the man from a moment ago restrained me. Rhaegar stood there, rubbing his jaw.

"You bastard!" I yelled. "How could you! Was she worth it? Did our family mean nothing?"

Rhaegar sighed, "I deserved that."

"That you do, my great-grandson," the man restraining me said.

_Great-Grandson?_ I thought. I faced my captor. "Aegon?"

"Aegon the fifth," he clarified. Seeing around his head was a golden band, declared to be his crown.

Analyzing the room, some wore crowns, others in armors, and few in Braavosi attire with some jewelry that signified their status of a Targaryen. These people were my ancestors.

"I think she is going to faint," one woman said.

Jorah rushed over, grabbing me as he held my balance.

I grabbed my head, "I've truly gone mad."

Laughter echoed through the halls from that statement.

"If you were truly mad, we wouldn't be here," Aegon V chuckled slightly.

I stared at Jorah, wondering if he knew of this. Based on his overwhelmed expression, he didn't. Here stood my ancestors; unfortunately, I don't know most of their faces. I've never seen their actual portraits or statues. Illustrations in books don't give them enough credit than an actual portrait. I looked around to see if there were other familiar faces, any of my direct family other than Rhaegar. Sadly, Mother was not here. Hiding my disappointment, I stared at Rhaegar, who stood there ashamed, avoiding eye contact. There were so many questions I want to ask him. Many he needs to answer for why he did what he did. A rebellion during our father's reign was bound to happen, except why did Rhaegar ignite it. Why did he kidnap Lyanna Stark when he had a wife and family?

"Rhaegar, what happened?" Aegon V asked. "Her fire was still blazing when you destroyed the cursed object. Ser Jorah and Alysanne should've woken in the real world."

"The Undying Ones were extinguishing her fire at the same time Ser Jorah was destroying it," Rhaegar explained.

"Then shouldn't we be in the Father's golden hall?" The woman from earlier said, who had a circlet in the shape of a dragon on her head.

"You're right, Rhaenyra, we all should be back in our place in the Seven Heavens," Aegon V agreed.

"Unless a living soul is still in the veil," another woman said. All eyes turned to a woman who stood by the Silverwing goddess statue. She was a small woman, slim of waist and slight of frame. With a long neck, a fair complexion, a high forehead, and high cheekbones. She had blue eyes and honey-colored curls.

"Good Queen Alysanne," Rhaenyra introduced.

My eyes widen when seeing my namesake. One of the amiable Queen Consorts of Westeros.

"A living soul in the veil," Queen Alysanne repeated, then turn her attention to Jorah. "His body still lives. Until the Stranger claims him, this dream remains open."

"Can there be a chance to resurrect her?" Rhaegar asked.

Queen Alysanne stared at him, "Possibly, as long as the living doesn't destroy their bodies, there can be a chance for both of them to survive."

The Targaryen's nodded. Jorah and I stood there confused, not understanding what they are talking about. How can one resurrect the dead? Then my thoughts came to blood magic.

"No, no blood magic, I will not return as a hollow corpse. Not like Drogo." I argued.

Jorah tensed, understanding what I meant. Drogo was resurrected from the dead, even then he was either a living vessel with no soul, or his spirit was trapped in his body.

Queen Alysanne turned to me, resting her hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry, child. This is not blood magic, but fire magic. Until your sister figures that out, you must wait."

I was about to argue then closed my mouth.

"Come, let me show you what will happen if you don't return to the living," Queen Alysanne murmured, leading the way to the giant brazier that took form of a dragon's head. "Fate is not set in stone. Although there are prophecies and legends, destiny and coincidences, it is never confirmed. If you remain here, the world shall fall under darkness."

"The long night, Visenya told me about it," I said.

"Yes, the Night King is only pure evil, he wants to vanquish history," Queen Alysanne explained. "However, there are more evils in the world. Some are born evil, while others are driven to it."

I stared at her, confused, "Who would be driven to darkness if I die?"

A sad smile fell upon her face as she faced the fire. "Your sister."

_Dany?_ I thought baffled.

"Gaze into the fire, and you shall see," Queen Alysanne said.

The Targaryen's came forward all staring into the flames. Jorah and I were confused as we did so, when an image appeared, a vision, of Daenerys riding on Drogon burning King's Landing to the ground. Burning hundreds if not thousands of people. Women, children, and elderly consumed by fire or slaughter by the Dothraki and Unsullied. The vision changed to the ruins of the Red Keep. Daenerys stood at the top of the steps addressing her army. Ashes falling from the sky as if it were snow.

**"Blood of my blood. You kept all your promises to me. You killed my enemies in their iron suits. You tore down their stone houses. You gave me the Seven Kingdoms!"** Daenerys said and summon Grey Worm. _"You have walked beside my sister since the Plaza of Pride. You kept her promise to restore House Targaryen's name. You are the bravest of men, the most loyal of soldiers. I name you commander of all my forces, the Queen's Master of War."_

The Unsullied stomped their spears. Grey Worm though hardened face nodded in appreciation,

Daenerys then return to the army, _"Unsullied. All of you were torn from your mother's arms and raised as slaves. My Sister, Queen Alysanne had liberated you. Now…you are liberators! You have freed the people of King's Landing from the grip of a tyrant! But the war is not over. We will not lay down our spears until we have liberated all the people of the world! From Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Qarth, from the Summer Isles to the Jade Sea! Women, men, and children have suffered too long beneath the wheel. Will you break the wheel with me?"_

My eyes widen for I no longer saw my sweet sister. Instead, I saw a tyrant. A stranger filled with rage and hate. All the lessons I have taught her gone.

"If you remain dead, then this will be the fate of the world," Queen Alysanne said.

"Your death leads her to madness," Rhaenyra added.

This was overwhelming, too much to comprehend. I then stared at Rhaegar, who held sadness and guilt. A chain reaction of mistakes over and over again, leading to the birth of madness. Some Targaryens are born mad while others are made. Excusing myself, I went outside to breathe needing the fresh air. I leaned against one of the columns and slouched to the ground hugging myself. Several minutes later, Jorah came over as he sat down next to me.

"After all this, I don't think I can ever go back to being a cynic," Jorah murmured.

"Couldn't agree more," I mumbled. "To be dead, seeing my ancestors, and discovering a possible future Daenerys may fall into. It goes against everything I created. One cannot rule them all. She will be Queen of the Ashes."

Jorah took her hand, "Not unless you are there to prevent it."

"Jorah, I'm dead. What is dead can never come back," I softly cried. "The only reason we are still in this damn dream is because you're still alive."

"Forgive me, I was too late," Jorah sighed.

"This is not your fault, it is the Warlocks," I cried. "You did everything you could to deceive them while trying to save me."

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, "I never thought I would die this way. Not by poison at least."

"You should've passed from old age with your children surrounding you," Jorah said.

"And you in my bed with my arms around you," I added.

Jorah sighed once more.

Rhaegar soon came out, "May I have a moment?"

Jorah looked at me in question which I nodded. He stood up, leaving us alone in private. Rhaegar sat down across from me. It was strange how much we resembled each other from the hair, eyes, and other features. As if we were twins, except he was twenty years older than me.

"What little memories I had of home; you were in them. Along with Mother, Viserys, Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon," I said, which he winced when I mention our family. "Viserys always praised you were good at killing, but I remember you being talented, a scholar, a musician. A good King when the day comes. I remember that promise you made me. That when you are King, you would've made a better world, that the family curse would never fall upon me. Everyone told me, you were decent and kind, gave money to the poor…and you raped Lyanna Stark. You dishonored her and took her away when she was betrothed to another. Our cousin Robert. You were married to Princess Elia Martell, a wonderful woman who almost died twice to give birth to your children. Do you know what the Lannisters did to them? What Gregor Clegane did to them?"

Rhaegar only stared at me.

"From what I've been told, Rhaenys was stabbed in her bed," I said, eyes watering and throat clenched. "Stabbed countless times until her heart was blood itself. Aegon, sweet baby Aegon, ripped out of Elia's arms and head smashed into the wall. And Elia…she watched her children being murdered, until Ser Gregor raped her with the blood of her children on his hands, and cut her in half. Their bodies presented in the Throne Room covered in Lannister cloaks. Did you ever think about them? Did you ever think about the consequences? Father… I understand…but your family did not deserve to die like that. Our own mother shouldn't have gone through the stress when she was carrying Dany. Viserys wouldn't have fallen into madness if the world hadn't rejected him. I wouldn't have been raped and abused by him. And Dany…she would've had a home, a family. Did you ever think about us? Or was it lust and spite?"

Rhaegar looked down ashamed, "I was a fool to believe in the prophecy. All the signs stating I was the reincarnation of Azor Ahai. Our grandfather believing in the Wood Witch that our parents' bloodline would bring the princes that was promised. And then…I thought it was my son. Thinking that the prince who promised is the same as Aegon the Conqueror and his two sisters. My son needed two sisters…:

"You needed a Visenya," I growled.

"Elia was considered barren after Aegon's birth. Or at least that is what Maester Pycelle believed. Any more pregnancies and she would have died. I couldn't risk her life. But I needed…no not need…I wanted a third child. All I could think about was preparing the Seven Kingdoms for the long night. Have father abdicated, become King, so when the Long Night does arrive, Aegon would be ready."

"So, instead of having a bastard with any woman in court, you chose a betrothed woman. From all the women who were willing to be your mistress, you've chosen the Warden's daughter of the largest kingdom in Westeros. The Starks and the Targaryens were allies for hundreds of years, and the Baratheons were our cousins. Had you no shame?"

"I do hold shame, and I must live with it," Rhaegar said. "When I promised a new dynasty to House Targaryen only to be its downfall. And now, you and Daenerys are the ones to pick up the pieces. Or this case…our sister…becoming what all Targaryens are feared to become."

I took a deep breath.

"I hated and loved you throughout the years. When I learned the truth about the war. How it originally started. How it was you who ignited it. My big brother who sings and dances with me, who read me stories was the cause of it. And to hear that it was your obsession to have three children breaks my heart and wonder if you were truly mad."

"People question that with Baelor," he tried to joke.

I shook my head, "That is not my point. You destroyed House Targaryen because of a woman. You had a family, and that selfish decision destroyed our family. All because of a prophecy that a Wood Witch foretold."

"You don't believe in prophecies?"

"Prophecies are mere riddles. A game to trick the mind into believing in. An excuse to act upon without retaliation."

"You earned your name," Rhaegar sighed. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"I don't know," I said, standing up. "In time maybe, but right now…I can't. Answer me this, was she worth it? Was Lyanna Stark worth our family's extinction?"

Rhaegar stood up, "I don't know anymore."

I turned my gaze inside the temple where our ancestors socialized amongst one another. Generations talking to generations or more excellent and fair rulers, knights, and women who made a difference in history. People who made a difference for Westeros. My attention then turned to Jorah, who leaned against a column in a corner as one ancestor tried to hold a conversation with him. He was bewildered, trying to grasp who he was talking too. My heart stirred, thinking about the past few days in the dream. The chances we could've had if I had abdicated. Let alone the risk of rescuing me from death.

"The things we do for love," I murmured.

"Agreed," Rhaegar said. "Never thought you would be with a Mormont. I intently had plans to match you with Quentyn Martell or one of Lord Mace Tyrells eldest sons. What do you see in him?"

I continue to watch Jorah, "Redemption and sacrifice. He treats me not as a Targaryen, but as myself. Believes in me when others wouldn't."

"Maybe he will make a good king consort," Rhaegar complimented.

I scoffed slightly trying to imagine Jorah uncomfortable from all the attention. Then the thought came that if Jorah returns to the real world, he would still be suffering from Greyscale. Mentioning the disease has reached his chest and back. If Daenerys and the Small Council find another way to resurrect me…it doesn't resolve the matter that I would still lose the man I love. Sighing, I walked over to Jorah rescuing him from the haunting.

**.o0o.**

_Meereen_

Alysanne's body was laid on a bier in the Audience Hall. Four Braziers lit at each corner while the ceiling chandeliers were not lit. The chamber seeing a bit dark, yet this was how Kinvara wanted it. In a place of power in Meereen. Daenerys stood by her sister, combing her fingers through the long locks. The Small Council was apprehensive by this. None of them had experience with magic. All believed it was best to let Alysanne have a proper funeral.

She leaned down, kissing Alysanne's forehead, "Forgive me."

Kinvara entered the audience hall with her two priests. "It is time."

Ser Barristan came over to Daenerys, "I beg you, your highness, don't do this. Let your sister rest in peace."

"She spent her life saving me, I will save her," Daenerys whispered. "If you don't want to be here then leave."

Ser Barristan hesitated, Alysanne stated clearly, she is one of the Seven. She was not a worshiper of the Lord of Light, not wanting to associate herself with the dark arts. Magic is something that should not be messed with. Death is something that should not be messed with. As Kinvara stated if Alysanne is resurrected, …she won't be herself. A part of her would be dead. The question being which part.

The two stepped off the bottom platform of the stairs and joined the others. Tyrion wasn't at ease, wondering what sorcery that will transpire. If Varys were here, the Spider would openly argue about this. Daario was curious. Meanwhile, Grey Worm and Missandei stood praying for a miracle.

Kinvara walked over to the bier where the bodies head was. She removed the small braids and adjusted the hair to fall over the edge. Next, she started stripping away the black gown before walking to one of the priests who held a basic filled with herbal water. The Red Priestess took a sponge and started washing the body, cleansing it. Once that was done, Kinvara was handed a golden chalice. She brought the drink to the Alysanne's lip gingerly giving the potion that will purify from the inside. Placing the cup aside, she was handed a pair of shears and moved over to the head. Kinvara brushed a few strands smoothing out the curls before she can to cut. Daenerys tensed, yet bit back her protest.

_"Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon,"_ Kinvara chanted, cutting more locks and tossing them to the brazier.

She finished cutting the hair, putting the shears aside and was handed a golden pitcher. Kinvara slowly poured water down the freshly chopped hair, combing her fingers in to cleanse the scalp while saying, "_Zyhys yperzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon."_

Finally, Kinvara moved to the side, resting her hands on the dragoness's chest. Amber eyes stared intensive, almost illuminating in the dim room. She leaned forward some whispering the spell. _"Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson."_

Over and over, Kinvara chanted the spell filled with much determination. The two priests came over, placing a hand on Alysanne's feet joining in the incantation. The room started to become hot, the air dense, making it uncomfortable to breathe. The four braziers fire growing brighter, rising up to the ceiling. Until Kinvara started, exclaiming the spell, her ruby illuminating so bright.

_"Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon!_

_Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon!_

_Hen syndrorro, oños! Hen ñuqir, perzys! Hen morghot, glaeson!"_

The flames roared like magic engulfing the platform blinding the Small Council in what happened. They turned away, covering their faces, and then there was silence. The Audience Chamber was dark. Only the candles that surrounded bier continued to lighten the dark room. Kinvara removed her hands along with the two Red Priests. They stepped down from the platform and towards them.

"It is done," Kinvara said. "Now it is the Lord of Light turn to decide."

With nothing else to say the R'hllor faith left the chamber. Daenerys blinked a few times trying to grasp in what just happened. Immediately she ran over to the bier where the body lied. Sadly, Alysanne's body remains there, dead. The Mother of Dragons stood watching silently begging for her sister to wake up. Nothing happened. Daario came over, wrapping a caring arm over Daenerys and lead her out. Ser Barristan glanced at his Queen and sighed following the princess. Missandei was the next person to leave, as well. Grey Worm walked over to the bier, instead of saying goodbye, he took his position guarding the body.

Tyrion, who also remained, came over disappointed. A part of him had hoped this would work. He believed in Alysanne, seeing her as the exact ruler for the realm. She did not care about power, she cared about order. She cared about the people. And she cared about redemption. A good Queen taken away yet again. Being considerate, Tyrion went over to the table to grab a sheet to cover the body. Just as he returns stopping at the head to cover her, eyes that were thought to be forever closed snapped open.

Alysanne gasped, taking first breath of her second life.

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**What do you guys think?**

**The hymn the Stranger says if from Tangle Series. The Moondrop Hurt incantation.**

**Translations to the Resurrection prayer:**

**_Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon_. =We ask the Lord to shine his light, and lead a soul out of darkness.**

**_Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon._ =We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out.**

**_Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson._ = From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life.**

**Remember, High Valyrian does not use gender pronouns.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	56. Chapter 56: Awake and Alive

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 56: Awake and Alive**

_Moments before the Resurrection_

_Alysanne's POV_

I walked over to Jorah, who was still uncomfortable with the whole communicating with spirits. I was used to it since I spent the past couple of years talking to Visenya. Just as I came over, the spirit who was talking to Jorah, I noticed he wore armor with golden accessories, around his head was a silver band with rubies. The Targaryen gave a bow and left to provide us with some privacy.

"Are you all right, Jorah?" I asked.

"I just talked to King Daeron the First," Jorah answered.

"The Boy King," I said impressed, as I watched Daeron walk over to others.

"You seem calm about all this," Jorah noted.

"Well," I paused for it was best to tell him the truth. "I've been communicating with the dead for the past few years."

"Rhaegar mentioned that," Jorah muttered, crossing his arms.

"The reason why I never told you or the others is that at first, I thought I was going mad. Hearing voices and communicating with Visenya. But when her lessons and wisdom started to come true in the real world…I accepted it." I explained. "Learning more of Targaryen History. How to be a ruler. How to fight. How to train the dragons."

"It makes sense now," Jorah sighed. "If only you've told me."

"Would you have believed in me, the same with your pardon?" I asked.

Jorah took a deep breath and sighed, knowing I got him there. He didn't trust me with his pardon, and I didn't trust him with my abilities.

"Is there anything else I should know. Any other magical abilities I should know of?"

"Unfortunately, I can't breathe fire."

Jorah snorted, shaking his head.

I rested my hand on his crossed arms, "But you understand why I've been serious about returning to Westeros. It's not because of the Iron Throne, but because something from the North is coming down to destroy life. The Long Night."

"Did all the Targaryens know of this?" Jorah asked.

"Only those chosen to be mentored by Visenya," Rhaegar answered as he came over. "The suspicion that something was happening began with Queen Alysanne dragon Silverwing refused to fly over the Wall. Preparing for the unknown, yet over time due to the wars, rebellions, and madness did we forget the purpose. Any moment now, the Great War shall rise."

"Daenys the Dreamer predicted of two dooms," Queen Alysanne said. "One by fire and one by ice. The Doom of Valyria was the fire. The Great War is of Ice."

Jorah nodded, though his eyes betrayed him in how overwhelming this is. I chuckled slightly and leaned up to peck his cheek. A small smile twitched his lips. A loud crackling sound could be heard catching everyone's attention as we all stare at the Dragon brazier. The fire breathing rabidly, crackling more as if it was alive. Queen Alysanne walked over to inspect it. Just as she touched the fire, there was a loud banging on the temple's door. What felt like an earthquake, shaking the temple, dust falling from the ceiling and arches.

"What was that?" I asked.

"The Warlocks, they are here to finish the dream and collect what remains of your fire," Queen Alysanne answered.

The dream was only open because Jorah was still alive.

"Rhaegar, get them out of here!" Aegon V ordered, drawing his sword.

The women gathered around the brazier grasping each hand chanting in High Valyrian. All the men drew their swords, blocking the only entrance to the temple. Rhaegar shoved Jorah and I, into the corridor leading us to the staircase. Just as we reached the second story, the door burst open, and the Warlocks entered wearing the Volto masks and blue robes. The Targaryen Women continue to chant around the fire, giving it more fuel to its breath. Rhaegar forced us to continue to run when a warlock appeared out of nowhere. Drawing our swords, we prepared for the attack. Fighting the Warlocks of Qarth away.

"Whatever you do, don't let them touch you!" Rhaegar ordered, blocking the Warlock and stabbing him in the stomach. Yanking the blade back, he gestured for us to keep running.

We ran, fighting anyone who dare comes near us. Shouts and battle cries echoed through the halls. We finally reached the final story, seeing through the rails the Warlocks trying to prevent the Targaryen women from doing their spell. The fire growing, almost reaching the dome ceiling.

"What are they doing?" I asked.

"Prolonging the fire magic," Rhaegar answered. He then turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Alysanne, I mean no ill towards you or our family. I pray one day you will forgive me. I am proud to have you as my sister." He kissed my forehead like he used to, before looking at Jorah. "Protect her with your life. There is a door that leads to the roof. Along with a carved staircase on the east tower. Go now!"

Jorah nodded as he took hold my arm.

Rhaegar turned around, leaving to join the fight. Just as he walked down the step, his clothes transformed into black armor where a three-headed dragon made of rubies decorated his breastplate. Just as a helm covered his face, he turned to me on last time.

"There are three dragons left in the world, the last three Targaryens."

Before I could ask him what he meant, he left to join the battle. Jorah kept a good hold of me as he led the way to the door, where a ladder occupied the space. Jorah helped me climbed up before he did, slamming the latched door. The ceiling becoming uneven, as it shook. The dome starting to crack. Jorah kept hold of me leading me to the east side except there was no carved staircase on the pillars.

I looked at Jorah, wondering if this was it. Was this the end before reaching the afterlife? There was nowhere else to escape. The Warlocks of Qarth have won. Unable to think of the unknown, I embraced Jorah who hugged me in return.

"I love you," I said.

Jorah lifted my chin to face him, "I love you too."

His lips pressed against mine for the last time. As we kissed, the dome collapsed, and the raging fire from the brazier consumed the sky engulfing everything in its wake. The flames circling around us in a blazing inferno. Like the song of The Dance of the Dragons, of two lovers embracing each of other in the Doom or in the poem:

They held each other close and turned their backs upon the end.

The hills that split asunder and the black that ate the skies;

The flames that shot so high and hot that even dragons burned;

Would never be the final sights that fell upon their eyes...

_The Doom consumed it all alike, and neither of them turned,_ I thought, excepting death.

**.o0o.**

My eyes snapped open, finding myself in the Audience Hall. My lungs screamed for air, an unexplainable pain of holding one's breath for far too long. A strange taste of herbs in my mouth and my throat aching. I gasped, breathing the warm air desperately drowning from nothing. The world was spinning. Everything felt like it was spinning. A sound of a startled yelp could be heard follow by a crash.

I sat up slowly, grasping my neck, analyzing the room. No doubt this was the Audience Hall, it was night, yet the chandeliers were not lit. Only the candles that surrounded me and four braziers. On the bottom step was Grey Worm who stood there in shock, as his eyes were wide open. Next to him on the ground, as if he had fallen was Tyrion, with a sheet in his hand. Everything felt like it was still spinning, turning around to get off what appears to be a bier. Yet candles were knocked over. Just as my feet touch the ground, my ankles gave way, causing me to fall. Before I hit the stone, Grey Worm had rushed in catching me.

I was still gasping, panting, breathing rapidly in trying to gain more air in my lungs.

_"My Queen,"_ he said, keeping a good hold of me.

_"Torgo…Nudho…"_ I panted.

Grey Worm helped me sit down while Tyrion rushed over, wrapping the sheet around my naked body. I was utterly confused.

"What do you remember, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked.

I panted clinging the sheet close, "…fire…"

Tyrion arched a brow, then looked at Grey Worm, "Get the others. Tell them the Queen is alive."

Grey Worm nodded as he ran out through the main entrance. I panted, grabbing my head from a massive migraine. Visions bursting in my head in flashes. Everything that happened in the dream, the spirits of House Targaryen, the Warlocks, the illusions, Joren, and Jorah. I cried out, bowing my head while the flashes trying to make sense until the last living memory came in. Laying in Daenerys's arms as the poison took me.

"Dany…dinner…the Warlock… poisoned me…" I panted, then looked at him. "Where's my sister? Is she safe?"

"Daenerys is safe," Tyrion assured, still astonished.

"I…I shouldn't be here…" I whispered. Something did not feel right. I don't feel like myself.

"The High Priestess Kinvara brought you back," Tyrion explained.

I gagged feeling like I was going to vomit. Tyrion realizing what was happening, grabbed the basin dumping its contents and handed to me. I heaved over retching blue bile out of my stomach. The awful taste from the Shade of the Evening and other herbs being expelled from my system. The poison vomited away. Once I was finished, Tyrion took the basin away and kneeled in front of me.

"You were dead, and now you are not. I can't imagine what you are going through, but your sister needs you. The dragons need you. Your army needs you." Tyrion started.

I stared at Tyrion, confused, "What was the price?"

Before Tyrion could answer, the sound of footsteps rushed in seeing the Small Council. All were in shock. Tyrion helped me stand, allowing me to force my weight on him. However, my legs shook like a newborn fawn. Daenerys eyes watered, she came over and embraced me in a constricting hug, almost knocking us down. Hesitant, I patted her back, not sure if this was real or not.

"You were dead," Daenerys sobbed. "I thought I lost you."

"Is this…real?" I asked quietly. "Not an illusion?"

Daenerys pulled back, cradling my face, "Real. A thousand times real. Not a dream or a nightmare."

She leaned up to kiss me, but I avoided it, "Don't…I puked…"

She was confused until seeing the basin filled with bile. She gave the nod and hugged me again. I stood there, accepting her embrace while staring at my Small Council. Seeing Ser Barristan, Daario, Grey Worm, and Missandei bewildered by all this. So much was happening, as my body begged for movement. Let alone my mind swirling trying to grasp from what is a dream and what is a reality. Until I remember the final moments of the dream.

Jorah…did Jorah make it out?

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah opened his eyes and gasped, bolting up from the makeshift bed. He looked around to find himself in the dark chamber. Back in the Orange Shores in the Volantis territories. The world felt like it was spinning, his skin felt warm as if it was near the fire, and the smell of smoke clung in his nose. The last thing he remembers was holding Alysanne in his arms as the Temple of Valyria was engulfed in flames.

"Jorah the Andal," Quaithe calmly greeted standing by the potion table. She held a tray bringing it over to him, though place it at the end of the bed. There were water and a vial. "Drink."

"Did it work? Is she alive?" Jorah asked, noting his throat was a bit hoarse and muscles stiff.

Quaithe gaze into his eyes, having a premonition, "She lives. Being embraced by the Mother of Dragons."

Jorah sighed in relief, as he took hold of the cup filled with water and drank it. He remembers everything that happened in the dream. Although recalling what Quaithe said, he doubts Alysanne will remember what happened. The Spirits, the Warlocks, Rhaegar, Joren, and them. The illusion brought him some acceptance while searching for the cursed object, he had a moment to be with Alysanne again. Even if it was a short period of time. He can die in peace, knowing his lover was alive. If only he were there to help her fight in the Great War. Jorah may not have seen the prodigious threat the spirits were talking about, but the omens are clear.

"What will you do now?" Quaithe asked.

"I've surrendered to this sickness the moment I first saw it. For many months I try to find a cure, and all the physicians and healers in Essos cannot stop it." He answered, finishing his drink.

"It is West you must go," she said.

The Exiled Knight stared at her confused.

The Shadow-binder continued, "West to Westeros, in the tower where knowledge resigns. A life debt will come in favor of your father."

"My father is dead," he said sadly. "Killed and betrayed by his own men."

"Not all betrayed him," She murmured.

He was a bit confused about what she meant. His gaze turned to the vial with an orange liquid wondering what it was.

"Drink it," she advised. "It is not the cure, but it will prevent the progression from rapidly spreading. Enough time to find what you seek."

"Why?" He asked.

"The Seed of Ice for the Womb of Fire. A dynasty of no other," she answered. "But only if the Dragoness of the West has you by her side."

The knight was cautious, wondering why the Shadow-binder was helping him. The Dragon Sisters he understands, but him in general. Also, Quaithe saying that quote, that the Red Priestess in Volantis told him.

"You are bound to her," she said. "Body, spirit, and soul."

Jorah still grasping the hold magic, and clairvoyance merely nodded as he drank the orange potion. He cringed at the taste, and hopes it works to stop the rapid progression of Greyscale. Giving him more time to find a cure. Thinking about what Quaithe said about where he should go, West to Westeros where knowledge is kept in a tower to find the cure. The only place that knowledge is held in Westeros was in Oldtown, at the Citadel where the Order of Maesters resided. The Maesters kept knowledge of practically everything. There can be a chance for one of them to know how to cure Greyscale. If not…at least he could glance at Bear Island one more time. Although there was a problem, he was banished from Westeros. Even with the pardon from Robert Baratheon, the crimes he had committed has ruined his reputation. Now add the Greyscale, he would be shipped off to Old Valyria.

Does he take the final risk or not?

Daenerys gave him the order to find the cure and return to the Dragon Sisters. Ordered him to return to Alysanne, for the young Queen will need him by her side. Remembering the vision, the Targaryens saw of the fate of the world if Alysanne dies again, he must. His lover died once; he will not let her die again. And prevent the return of the Targaryen Madness.

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**Just a small chapter after a very long one from the previous. Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	57. Chapter 57: The Golden Kraken

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 57: The Golden Kraken**

I comb my fingers through my short hair. No longer did my hair reach my hips. Instead, the golden-white locks touched to my collarbone. In the beginning, my hair reached my midback until taking part in the Dothraki customs. Never cutting it unless defeated, with the exception of a trim. However, I was defeated. Instead of combat or a battle, I was defeated by poison. The Warlock of Qarth killed me, and the Stranger collected the vessels life.

I was dead for a day.

I was in the Veil for five days.

I was brought back to life.

And not all of me returned.

It was hard to explain it. I felt like a part of me was missing. I didn't know what it was. At first, I was confused, trying to separate the false memories of Alys Mormont from Alysanne Targaryen. But it wasn't the woman who was the mother who chosen survival over greatness. A specific time of memories were gone. Memories of King's Landing. When I asked Daenerys, what was the price of bringing me back, my sister told me a part of my soul would be dead. No longer remembering my earliest childhood made me realize the little girl was dead. No longer do I remember my mother's face, nor my best friend and niece Rhaenys, or little Aegon, or Father. All the people who were there in the chamber in the tower. Elia's face was hazy, holding onto the glimpse the House of the Undying shown, and Rhaegar being fresh in my mind. Everything else was gone. I know things had happened, a common knowledge people have of their childhood…but the visuals, the sound of their voices, the smells of their perfumes, all of the senses of my beginning as a little girl were gone.

The memories that kept me going through exile were gone. All I could remember was Daenerys's birth and onward.

It pains me, as I gazed at Queen Rhaella's crown and necklace…I can't see her wearing them. My heart broke, silent tears falling down my cheeks, unable to return to the past of sweet comfort.

No words could be spoken after being resurrected. So many questions were being asked, ones I could not answer. Death, the Veil, Spirits, and Warlocks it's too much to explain. I was trying to understand what has happened. I was dead for a day. The Stranger gave me the kiss of death. The Warlocks trying to claim my fire to resurrect the Undying Ones. And then there was the conversation with the spirits. Rhaegar's final words that there are three dragons, three Targaryen's left in the world. Daenerys and I make two. So, who was the third? Could he be referring to Aemon Targaryen, who is a Maester at the Night's Watch? There are countless Targaryen Seeds all over Westeros, but by name, there are three I'm aware of. I sighed, grabbing my head.

Then the thought of the spirits. What Rhaegar, Aegon V, Rhaenyra, and Queen Alysanne talked about. Seeing the Young Dragon Daeron I, and all the others. The Targaryens who made a difference for Westeros since Aegon the Conqueror reign. All prepared for the Unknown, their mission being lost through history by the corruption in power from their descendants or other houses. Spirits who were guided by Visenya or have known her personally. They were summoned from the Seven Heavens to save me from the Warlocks. I hold much gratitude and in their debt. Although, a part of me wished Mother was there, and yet…fate denied her of greatness. A song Rhaegar wrote lingers in my head, the memory of him singing it was gone, but I remember Ser Willem singing it.

I was six it was late at night, and I couldn't sleep. Leaving my room, I walked into the library where Ser Willem was sitting by the fireplace, drinking from a flask while holding a piece of paper. He heard the door creak, looking up.

"Alysanne, what are you doing out of bed?" he asked softly.

"I couldn't sleep," I mumbled.

Ser Willem nodded, "Me neither. Come."

He gestured me over, as I did so, he picked me up and set me on his lap. I noticed the letter in his hand.

"What's that?" I asked.

"A letter from Dorne," Ser Willem answered. "Do you remember which House rules Dorne."

"House Martell," I replied. "Motto 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.' Banner a red sun pierced by a golden spear on an orange field."

"Good girl," he said with a small smile. "Prince Doran wants to forge an alliance, so one day we can go home."

I nodded, touching the orange wax seal. "I miss mommy."

"She was a beautiful woman," he sighed. "But you need to be strong. Not like your grandaunt Jenny."

"Who?" I asked.

"Jenny Oldstone, she was married to your Grand-uncle Duncan. He abdicated the throne so he could be with her." He answered.

"What happened to her?" I asked.

Ser Willem tried to explain to what happens to Jenny Oldstone. At the time, I did not know it was Jenny who brought the Wood Witch who prophesized through the bloodline of Aerys and Rhaella will the prince who was promise shall be reborn. Instead of telling me the actual story, he set the letter down, took a swig from his flask, and sang me the story.

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most_

_The ones who'd been gone for so very long_

_She couldn't remember their names_

_They spun her around on the damp old stones_

_Spun away all her sorrow and pain_

_And she never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave._

_Never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave_

_They danced through the day and into the night_

_Through the snow that swept through the hall_

_From winter to summer then winter again_

_Till the walls did crumble and fall_

_And she never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave_

_And she never wanted to leave…_

I fell asleep, never hearing the rest of his song. Now realizing the truth about my grandaunt Jenny, learning she had survived the Tragedy of Summerhall. So many Targaryens died in the devastations along with fellow companions. As Aegon, the Fifth tried to resurrect the two dragon eggs with forgotten magic. While my grandparents and parent survived along with the birth of Rhaegar…Jenny died from a broken heart years later. She returned to Oldstone to the place where she met Duncan, some said she had gone mad, but I believe it was her grief, as the ruins reminded her of the aftermath of Summerhall. Or so that has been told.

I sighed, closing my eyes singing the last verse of the song:

_"High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most…"_

Viserion nudged me sensing my internal struggle. Ever since waking up, I've been taking comfort in the golden dragon. Let alone the fact that he doesn't want me out of his sight. The only time he would let me leave was if it was late that I must rest in my chambers. Lately, security has become intense. Not only do I have Viserion, but Ser Barristan and four other Unsullied have been accompanying me. One Unsullied even volunteered to be my taste tester. Before I eat or drink anything from a pitcher, the soldier named Red Rock would sample it. At this point, I've given up on consuming anything that contains alcohol. I mainly drink water, pomegranate juice, and tea. Anything fermented I can't consume.

I adjusted myself and hugged the dragon. Ignoring the stares from the guards in the field. Even though I feel lost, the firm ground of stability was through Viserion. There was a communication barrier, yet Viserion knows me better than anyone else. He knows I don't want to talk about death. Everyone wants to know what happened. What the other side was like, although the thing was, I was not in the Seven Heavens or Hells. I wasn't in the Father's Golden Hall. Nor was there nothing. I was in the Veil that took hold of my deepest desire.

I don't want to talk about Joren. The little boy from my dreams that will never be. Or that Jorah risked his life to save me yet again, and learning how far his Greyscale has progressed. Taking his entire left arm and upper back and chest. Jorah is out there alone, dying from an incurable disease. All he ever does is save me, no matter what his state of health was, and I've done nothing for him. Banished him twice in trying to keep the honor of my word.

"Alys," Daenerys called out.

I turned around, facing my sister. Remembering the vision Queen Alysanne had showed me of Daenerys's fate if I were to die. There was no account of the Great War. Only that my sweet sister would have turned into a tyrant destroying King's Landing, becoming the Queen of the Ashes and the ruler of all. I remember our previous conversation about my ruling Westeros and her taking over Essos. The return of the Valyrian Freehold. Unfortunately, that is not possible. Two people cannot rule the world, nor can one person. As much as Slavery is terrible, the vision showed Daenerys being a slaver to all in her madness.

I also questioned her decisions lately. She used magic on me to bring me back from the dead. Has she not forgotten the last time she used magic to resurrect the dead? Of course, the magic that was used was fire magic, but I feel something dark. Especially from a fanatical religion of the R'hllor faith. Magic is not something to mess with. Hadn't Mirri Maz Duur told her before, using magic has a price? Magic has a price, and I feel like Daenerys killed my childhood to bring me back.

"If you're going to ask what it's like on the other side, I'm not going to tell you," I said. "You, Tyrion, or anyone else."

"Of course, death is something personal," Daenerys replied.

I turned around rubbing Viserion's neck.

"You're mad at me?" She asked.

I took a deep breath, "You know how I feel about magic."

"But you use Dragon Magic," she reminded.

"The magic we use with the dragons is entirely different from blood magic or dark magic." I scolded.

"You were dead!" Daenerys snapped. "I held you in my arms when the poison put you in a coma. Two days being by your side. And on the third day, you were dead. I lost Rhaego, Drogo…I couldn't lose you. You're the only family I had left. If I could trade my life to save yours, I will."

I sighed, walking over and hugged her. Daenerys didn't sob or cry, but her body trembled. I sound like a hypocrite. I would watch a kingdom fall if Daenerys were dying and do anything to save her.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I fear the consequences of using magic to revive the dead. A part of me is missing. I can no longer remember Mother's face or anyone from Westeros."

Daenerys tensed when hearing this.

"And what the Warlocks did…was the cruelest thing anyone could have done." I whispered. "Trapped in a dream that can never be true."

Daenerys nodded.

I took a deep breath, "I need time to adjust. Dying made me realize a few things."

"And what is that?" she asked.

"Curiosity killed the cat," I reminded her.

She nodded, realizing I had a point. I then lifted her chin to look her in the eye, "Next time, if I do die…let me stay dead."

"But you are a dragon," she said.

"I'm also human," I said. "Remember what I told you, we are nothing without the dragons. We are human. We may be immune to fire, but anything else can kill us." I took a deep breath. "Now, you have a choice. You can fly with me or run along."

This time Daenerys smiled as she summoned Drogon. We got on our dragons, taking to the sky flying over Meereen from the City to the valley region. Racing through the hills, plains, and rivers. When we made our way back to Meereen, I noticed dark sails approaching the bay. I scowled, looking at Daenerys who noticed this as well, black sails usually meant pirates. Ensuring this was not a raid, the dragons soar into the bay, inspecting the fleet.

That was when we got a better look of the sails, it appeared to be a giant gold squid on a field of black. No…a kraken. My eyes widen, remembering that when the krakens arrive to lead their aid, it will be time to sail back to Westeros. Along the post were the white flags indicating parley, that they were not a threat. I ordered Daenerys to return to the City and get the Unsullied prepared for company and Tyrion in preparation for an audience. As Daenerys did so, I had Viserion fly over the fleet as a warning not to attack Meereen. I will not hesitate to strike them down with fire. Afterward, I return to the Great Pyramid.

Once Viserion landed, I got off making my way to the Pyramid. Ser Barristan came over along with four other Unsullied.

"Daenerys told us a fleet was sailing in," Ser Barristan informed.

"Golden Kraken on a black field," I said. "House Greyjoy?"

"Yes, but they are too far from Westeros to be raiding and pillaging," Ser Barristan replied.

"Well, they are not one of the naval Houses I requested for support," I said, as we made our way inside. "I want the city on lockdown, only one boat worth of Iron Born is allowed into Meereen, and they will be escorted directly to me in the Audience Hall."

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.

"I want you, Lord Tyrion, Grey Worm, and the best Unsullied to be there. Ensure that all weapons are stripped," I added.

Ser Barristan nodded, having a slight smile written on his face.

"What's with that smile?" I asked him.

"It makes me proud in how much you have grown as a strong leader," he answered.

I nodded, not sure how to respond to that before going inside.

**.o0o.**

I sat on the ebony bench, looking down at the two Greyjoys. The last living children of Baelon Greyjoy. Ser Barristan informed me that their eldest brothers Rodrick and Maron died during the Greyjoy Rebellion. The youngest son was taken to be Ned Stark's ward, as a precaution that if Baelon dared rebel again, the Warden of the North would execute the boy. Analyzing them, they don't appear to be children.

The woman, Yara Greyjoy appeared to be in her mid-twenties, lean and long-legged, with sea-grey eyes and short brown hair that reaches her shoulders. Her face is thin, with a big, sharp nose, and wind-chafed skin. As for the man, Theon, was a different story, for a man who is supposed to be around Daenerys age, he looked older, his face hollow and sunken, grey eyes that appeared empty, while his dark hair had white strands. Another broken soul, both mentally and physically.

Ser Barristan and Tyrion stood by my side.

"Last time we saw each other was at Winterfell, yes?" Tyrion asked Theon. "You were making jokes about my height; I seem to recall."

Theon looked down for a second then started back at Tyrion, not saying a word.

"Everyone who makes a joke about a dwarf's height thinks he's the only person to make a joke about dwarf's height. 'The height of nobility,' 'a man of your stature,' someone to look up to.' You're all making the same five or six jokes." Tyrion added.

"It was a long time ago," Theon said.

"It was," Tyrion agreed. "And how have things been going for you since then? Not so well, I gather."

Theon lips tighten, looking away.

"Can't imagine you would have murdered the Stark boys if things had been going well." Tyrion continued.

"I didn't murder the Stark boys," Theon defended himself. "But I did things that were just as bad or worse."

"And he paid for them," Yara confirmed.

"Doesn't seem like it. He's still alive. It was complicated for you, I'm sure, growing up at Winterfell. Never quite knowing who you were. But then, we all live complicated lives, don't we?" Tyrion casually taunt.

I changed the subject, "You've brought us a hundred ships from the Iron Fleet with men to sail them. In return, I expect you want me to support your claim to the throne of the Iron Islands?"

As I looked at Theon since Westeros is based on a patriarchal society.

"Not my claim. Hers." Theon said, nodding his head towards his sister.

This caught me by surprise, "And what's wrong with you?"

"I'm not fit to rule," Theon answered sadly.

"We can agree upon that at least," Tyrion said.

"Enough, the Greyjoys are our guest. You will show them courtesy." I lectured softly.

"Forgive me," Tyrion apologized.

I turned my attention to Yara, "Has the Iron Islands ever had a queen before?"

"No more than Westeros," Yara replied.

_Only one since Rhaenyra half-year reign,_ I thought.

"Our Uncle Euron returned home after a long absence. He murdered our father and took the Salt Throne from Yara." Theon explained. "He would have murdered us if we'd stayed."

"Lord Tyrion and Ser Barristan tell me your father was a terrible king," I noted.

"You and I have that in common," Yara countered.

I nodded, "We do. And both murdered by a usurper as well."

I faced Ser Barristan, "Will their ships be enough?"

"With the former Masters' fleet, it's still not enough to secure the Dothraki forces and supplies." Ser Barristan replied.

Eight thousand Unsullied, two thousand recruited soldiers, two thousand Second Son, including their horses. Two war elephants that have been in the Pyramid, and now add a rough estimation of a hundred thousand Dothraki and their horses. Along with supplies that can last a few years. So, Varys needs to gather enough naval houses to join our cause.

"There are, and Euro is building more," Theon confirmed. "He's going to offer them to you."

"So why shouldn't I wait for him?" I asked.

"The Iron Fleet isn't all he's bringing," Theon answered, then hesitated on the second part. "He also wants to give you…"

"His big cock, I think he said." Yara finished. "Euron's offer is also an offer of marriage, you see. You won't get one without the other."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. As if I am willing to exchange my hand in marriage for a fleet. Xaro Xhaon Daxos tried that, and he betrayed me. Capturing the dragons and handing them to Pyat Pree. Killing three of Daenerys Dothraki screamers, having Doreah strangle Irri to death, and slaughter the Thirteen. Then there was the Great Masters trying to form a marital alliance to be subdued by the Sons of the Harpy. The insurgent's stabbed Hizdahr zo Loraq during the Great Game. From all, I can tell, political marriages when forced upon does nothing but bring death. Still, I want to see what these two siblings are willing to offer and what they want in exchange.

"And I imagine your offer is free of any marriage demands?" I asked.

Yara smirked, "I never demand, but I'm up for anything, really."

A surprised smile twitched my lips. Unfortunately, I prefer men over women in a sexual manner. Not that I am against homosexuality, even though it goes against the faith of the Seven. Whatever happens behind closed doors is none of my concern.

"He murdered our father and would have murdered us," Theon said. "He'll murder you as soon as you have what he wants."

"The Seven Kingdoms," Tyrion assumed.

"All of them," Theon confirmed.

"And you don't want the Seven Kingdoms?" I asked.

"Your ancestors defeated ours and took the Iron Islands. We ask you to give them back." Theon answered.

"And that's all?" I asked.

"We'd like you to help us murder an uncle or two who don't think a woman's fit to rule," Yara added.

"I'm about justice, not revenge," I reminded. "But seeing that your uncle committed fratricide then it seems reasonable to lend my support."

"What if everyone starts demanding their independence?" Tyrion asked.

"She's not demanding, she's asking," I corrected. "The others are free to ask, as well."

If you think about it, there are not Seven Kingdoms to rule. In the beginning, when Aegon the Conqueror took Westeros, he claimed the Six of the original Seven. It would be some time before Dorne came into the fold, and declaring the Crownlands as a capital district, not kingdom itself until later on in the Targaryen Monarchy. Currently, there are Nine: The Crownlands, the Iron Islands, Dorne, the Stormlands, the Reach, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, and the North. If I follow according to tradition, I need to focus on Seven Kingdoms. The Iron Islands was a small cluster of barren rock. The inhabitants living there since the beginning of time before the first men. Over time the Iron Born adapt in their own society. However, their culture would still be considered a threat to their traditions of piracy.

"Our fathers were evil men, all of us here. They left the world worse than they found it. We're not going to do that. We're going to leave the world better than we found it." I said, standing up.

Yara nodded pleased.

"You will support my claim as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and respect the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms," I said, walking over to her. "No more reaving, roving, raiding, or raping."

Yara shook her head, "That's our way of life."

"No more," I warned. "Accept this offer, if you or your descendants dare go against this deal, I will remind the Iron Born what Aegon the Conqueror did to House Hoare, and Pyke shall become the second Harrenhal."

Yara stared into my eyes, seeing if I was bluffing. But I wasn't. I learned from my mistakes with the Masters. I will not do the same with the Westerosi. And knowing the Iron Born's reputation, they do not deserve second or third chances. So, if Yara wants to be the Salt Queen of the Iron Islands and claim the kingdom's independence, she better follows to these terms. Realizing I meant what I said, her eyes widen. She glanced at Theon, who nodded, accepting the terms.

"No more," She promised, offering a hand to bind the contract.

Remembering how the Iron Born shake, I grabbed her elbow and she grabbed mine. We shook on it. Sealing the alliance between the Greyjoys and the Targaryens. The krakens have arrived. It was time to finally prepare for the invasion. It was time to return home and assemble the Seven Kingdoms for the Great War that is to come. Winter was coming, and it comes with a vengeance

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	58. Chapter 58: Sailing Home

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 58: Sailing Home**

_Alysanne's POV_

It would be a few weeks when Lord Varys arrived with more ships. All the sails of different sigils. Many I could recognize of House Martell, House Velaryon, House Celtigar, House Tyrell, and House Redwyne. The Small Council and I were baffled to see House Tyrell and Redwyne in the fold. Weren't they part of the Crown, since Lady Margaery married King Tommen? Varys had to explain a tragic event that had transpired in King's Landing. Ever since Tywin Lannister's death, the Faith Militant took over the city from fanatics who called themselves Sparrows. The Faith Militant had arrested Queen Margaery as a false witness to her brother Ser Loras, who committed sins against the Faith.

Even Queen Mother Cersei Lannister was arrested on the charges of adultery, fornication, and regicide. Cersei Lannister had to take part in the Walk of Atonement…which lead to the lioness retaliation by blowing up the Great Sept of Baelor killing Queen Margaery, Ser Loras, Lord Mace, Lord Kevan Lannister who was Hand of the King, and thousands of innocent citizens with wildfire. Lady Olenna, Lord Willas, and Ser Garlan seek revenge for the murder of half of their family. Adding more fuel to the lioness' rage, was King Tommen's was dead. Sources are unclear on how it happened, but the young King fell to his death.

Tyrion was shocked by these events for this was not expected. The news grew deeper, for Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane were dead. The envoy, Prince Quentyn who accompanied Varys explained that Princess Myrcella was poisoned by Ellaria Sand and his brother killed by Obara Sands. The Elder Sand Snakes and Ellaria Sands believed that they could overthrow House Martell to start a war, going against Prince Doran's orders. Unfortunately, Prince Doran gave justice by executing the two women. This led Cersei Lannister to claim the Iron Throne since there are no Baratheon heirs left and to declare war on the Reach and Dorne.

Other news came about from the other Kingdoms. The Riverland's is still under the control of House Frey, having a slight rebellion from the remaining survivors of House Tully. With the assistance of Ser Jaime, the Riverrun was still under Lannister control. The Stormlands still has no ruling house, the Westerlands are still under control by House Lannister, and the Vale, after the death of Lady Lysa Arryn, the boy Robin Arryn is being mentored by his stepfather Lord Petyr Baelish. Meanwhile, the North is another story entirely. A war between the Starks and the Boltons. House Stark has reclaimed Winterfell and its independence. It was now ruled by a bastard named Jon Snow.

Daenerys was not pleased by this, seeing that the wheel needed to be destroyed and bring back the Seven Kingdoms. I, on the other hands, thought differently. The Iron Islands asked for their independence, and I would grant them this after winning the war. The North…House Stark has been trampled through the mud since Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark and Father killing the Warden Rickard Stark along with Brandon Stark with wildfire. If any of the Seven Kingdoms hold much loathing for House Targaryen it is the North. I made the decision long ago in order to bring good Faith and alliances against the Great War I must relinquish my claim on the North. Let the North be its independent Kingdom and one day through my descendants reunite the North back to the Seven Kingdoms through marriage using the same method as King Daeron the Second used.

Although I would like to meet Jon Snow. A member of the Night's Watch who somehow became King of the North. However, doesn't this contradict the Night's Watches vows? Aren't they a sworn brotherhood where they cannot take wives and father no children? Have no claim or title until their watch has ended? So, in other words, didn't Jon Snow deserted the Night's Watch? Isn't desertion punishable by death? I doubt King Tommen or any of the Westerosi Small Council would pardon Jon Snow to rule over the North. Especially when the Starks and the Lannisters are sworn enemies since Joffrey Baratheon ordered for Lord Eddard Stark's execution.

Once the briefing was done, Quentyn revealed something of importance. At the beginning of my family's exile, Ser Willem was forging a marital alliance between House Targaryen and House Martell. Apparently, Prince Oberyn, who was proxy for his brother, Prince Doran signed a marital contract between Viserys and Arianne Martell. As evidence, he handed me one of the two copies of a secret pact. My eyes widen, holding the document seeing Ser Willem signature and the brown wax seal of House Darry. My stomach twisted, throat clenched, and mouth dry when seeing this. All this time Viserys was legally betrothed to another. All this time…it could explain why the gods forbid me to have Viserys children because his seeds belong to another. Along with these facts, I could've freed myself from an abusive marriage.

I had to excuse myself and took to the sky on Viserion to comprehend this information. It made me wonder what other secret pacts Ser Willem made. Prince Quentyn showed nothing else other than the pact for Viserys and Princess Arianne. So, there is no marriage pact for Daenerys and me with House Martell. As Viserion flew through the valley, I tried to remember my childhood in Braavos. If there was any memory of Ser Willem mentioning a match. All I could remember was him saying, "Princess Alysanne, the husband I pick will need the courage to have your hand." Then I thought about Rhaegar mentioning he would have matched me with Quentyn or any of Lord Mace's eldest sons. And yet, there is no discussion about the Tyrells pursing my hand. Right now, I hold little interest in marriage since my main objective is to protect the people and prepare them for the Long Night.

It would be sunset when I returned to the Great Pyramid.

No one in my Small Council dares discuss anything about this revelation.

Ser Barristan focused on the numbers stating we have enough ships for both my Unsullied and Daenerys Dothraki armies along with the horses, the elephants, and supplies. Including a trade route that Meereen keeps bringing supplies ships on a schedule. Even though House Tyrell offers supplies, it's better to be prepared for the unknown.

When it came to the fate of the Bay of Dragons, there was a vigorous debate. The Council for Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor are still being assembled. Slavery is completely abolished, and the tradition of the fighting pits have been altered. I cannot change everything, as some traditions have to be kept. So, in the Fighting Seasons, only free men are allowed in the ring. The lower pits can only beat the small opponents until they can be no longer able to physically fight. When the gladiators enter the Great Games, there is an opportunity if the fallen is not killed to be spared. They must give the signal of raising two fingers.

I stood over the maps of the Bay of Dragons. I need to leave a secure military to ensure that the Masters don't go against their word. The Second Siege of Meereen was my final warning. If I hear any news of the Masters taking back the city and enslaving people, I will bring not just fire. Right now, I am considering of leaving two thousand of the recruited soldiers. The Unsullied privates who were not cut during initiation.

Daenerys enters the study seeing how focused I am on securing Bay of Dragons.

"Are you sure want to leave two thousand of your soldiers?" She asked, seeing the totems on the map.

"Until the Council is made, it's best to leave the city under military rule," I answered.

"I don't think two thousand Unsullied make excellent Political De factors," she said.

I arched a brow, "Unless you are deciding to remain in Meereen, then who do you recommend?"

Daenerys paused as she picked up the totem that represents the Second Sons. "Daario will be regent until the three Cities can pick their leaders."

This caught me by surprise, "I thought you wanted Daario to join us?"

"He is a good man," she started, which I snorted. "Well, a good warrior who understands these lands."

"You're not sacrificing your happiness for political marriages?" I asked to be sure.

"They are necessary, but I can't bring him," she explained.

I sighed, resting my hand on her shoulder, "The choice is yours. Just don't sacrifice your happiness for me."

"You've sacrificed enough for me, it's time I return the favor," she said.

I nodded, giving her a hug. My sister was maturing now, understanding the means of the sacrifice of one's happiness for the sake of others.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys waited in the solar lounge waiting for Daario Naharis. She decided it was best to leave the Second Sons and Daario to protect the Bay of Dragons. Yesterday, while Alysanne was flying, she was surprised in the discovery from Quentyn Martells news. That Viserys was betrothed to Princess Arianne. If this information were known long ago, Alysanne wouldn't have been forced to marry her brother, they could've had support from House Martell if Ser Willem didn't die from sickness. Quentyn explained, when Prince Doran received news of Ser Willem's death, he sent men to find the Targaryens and bring them back Dorne or Norvos until the time came.

As Daenerys comprehended this, Tyrion advised her about her relationship with Daario. Bringing the Sellsword would not help their campaign in Westeros. There is a chance of a political alliance through marriage that may occur. Although, Daenerys wanted to be a conqueror, help Alysanne claim the Iron Throne then travel around the world to end Slavery, …she knows she had to do her part. Alysanne sacrificed her hand in marriage to Hizdahr zo Loraq due to Daenerys's mistake. So, the next potential marriage will be her turn. As much as she liked Daario, enjoying their sexual adventures, he was not Khal Drogo.

She took a sip of wine when Daario enters the room.

"The ships are nearly ready. I saw them painting the sails," Daario announced, as he poured himself a glass of wine. "I'm curious to see how the Dothraki do on the poison water."

"You're not coming with us," Daenerys said.

"New strategy?" Daario asked, making his way over to the lounge. "You want the Second Sons to attack from the west coast? If we take Casterly Rock, the Lannisters will have nowhere to run when you hit King's Landing."

"You're not going to Westeros. You're staying here with the Second Sons." she clarified.

Daario looked at her, shocked and confused.

"There's finally peace in Meereen," she continued. "You will keep the peace while the people choose their own leaders."

"Fuck Meereen," Daario said, setting the wine on the table. "Fuck the people. I'm here for you, not them."

"You promised me. 'My sword is yours. My life is yours.' This is what Alysanne and I command." She reminded.

Daario tried to maintain his composer; however, the Mother of Dragons could see the hurt in his eyes.

"If Alysanne and I are going to rule in Westeros, we'll need to make alliances. The best way to make alliances is with marriage." She explained.

Daario scoffed as he sat down, "Who are you marrying this time?"

"I don't know. Maybe no one," She replied, taking a sip of wine.

"But you need to lure all the noble houses to the table? Are you a contouring princess or fish bait?" he asked.

Daenerys was surprised by that statement, "I can't bring a lover to Westeros."

"A king wouldn't think twice about it," he challenged.

"So that's what you want? To be my mistress?" she asked.

"I'm not proud. I don't care what perfumed aristocrat sits beside you in the throne room. I don't want a crown. I want you." He answered, then got up to kneel before her taking her free hand. "I love you. And I make you happy. You know, I do. Bring me with you. Let me fight for you. "

Daenerys set her glass down and cradle his cheek. She could see so much emotion in the Tyroshi's blue eyes. Daario Naharis truly did love her, probably more than Drogo. However, deep down, she did not hold the same feelings. She'll admit she cared for Daario, fancied him sexually, except it wasn't enough to commit. Truly she wanted to end this discussion and move on.

"I can't," she said.

Daario stared into her eyes, seeing the mask she put on. Believing in the deception, baffled by the lack of empathy, he stood up.

"The dwarf told you to do this?" He asked.

"No one tells me to do anything," she answered.

"Clever fellow. Can't argue with his logic. I'm no use to you over there." He guessed.

"Don't get angry," she softly warned.

"I'm not angry. I'm full of self-pity," he assured, though a bit of anger could be heard. His eyes become water, yet did not shed a tear. "Who comes after you? Who can ever follow Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons?"

"A great number of women, I imagine," she assured.

Daario sighed but nodded.

"Specific orders will be left for you regarding the welfare of Meereen and the Bay of Dragons," she said, then stood up.

"The Bay of Dragons?" Daario asked.

"We can't call it Slaver's Bay anymore, can we?" she replied.

The Sellsword nodded, "You Dragon Sisters will get that throne you want so badly, I'm sure of it. I hope it brings you happiness."

He then picked up his cup, taking a large sip. His eyes lingering on her figure, as she assumed, he was memorizing her for the last time. Afterward sets the glass down.

"I pity the lords of Westeros. They have no idea what's coming for them."

"Farewell, Daario Naharis," she said with a small smile. "Maybe one day, our paths will cross again."

Daario gave a slight smirk remembering their conversation through the dry valley to return to Meereen. He gave a bow before leaving. Daenerys stood there, grasping her emotions and how she felt.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I sat next to Lord Tyrion in the Audience Hall. We were waiting on Daenerys since it was best, she gives the news to Daario Naharis alone of our plans of leaving the Second Sons until the Leaders of Bay of Dragos are assembled. As we wait, Lord Tyrion drank some wine. He offered me a glass, yet I refused since my interest in an alcoholic beverage is diminished. Not after being poisoned.

Tyrion merely shrugged as he said, "More for me."

I snorted, rolling my eyes as we continued to wait. It wasn't long when Daenerys came down the steps. Her expression was neutral unable to know what she was thinking.

"How did he take it?" I asked.

"No tears," Daenerys answered.

"I know it was hard for you," I said. "You turned away a man who truly loves you."

And my thoughts fell to Jorah.

"And because he would have been a liability in the Seven Kingdoms," Tyrion added. "That's the kind of self-sacrifice that makes a good ruler if it's any consolation."

"It's not," she said, before taking a seat next to me.

"No, I suppose not. I'm terrible at consoling," Tyrion said.

"Yes, you really are," she said, a slight bit of sarcasm in her voice.

Tyrion faced us, "All right, how about the fact that this is actually happening? You girls have your armies, you have your ships, you have your dragons. Everything you two have ever wanted since you were old enough to want anything, it's all yours for the taking. Are you afraid?"

Daenerys and I nodded.

"Good. You're in the great game now. And the great game's terrifying. The only people who aren't afraid of failure are madmen like your father."

I gave him a warning look.

"Do you know what frightens me?" Daenerys asked. "I said farewell to a man who loves me. A man I thought I cared for." She shook her head. "And I felt nothing. Just impatient to get on with it."

I was surprised by this. Then I remember what the spirits had said about Daenerys. She was on the thin line. Whichever side she leans on will take her to Greatness or Madness. Also, she was young, and she realized love can never be obtained so easily. Especially when you lose your first love.

I wrapped my arm around her.

"He wasn't the first to love you, and he won't be the last. "Tyrion console.

Daenerys nodded.

I then stood up, facing the two.

"For what it's worth, I've been a cynic for as long as I can remember. Everyone's always asking me to believe in things. Family, Gods, Kings, myself. It was often tempting until I saw where belief got people." Tyrion said, setting his glass down and stood up. On the step he was almost the same height as I. "So, I said, 'No, thank you,' to believe. And yet, here I am. I believe in you. It's embarrassing, really. I'd swear you my sword, but I don't actually own a sword."

"Your mind is sharp as a blade. It's your counsel I need," I chuckled softly.

"It's yours," Tyrion promised. "Now and always."

"Excellent," I said, though I held some doubts in him. He still has a lot of work to earn my complete trust. But while I was trapped in comatose and Daenerys by my side, Tyrion proved himself in maintaining the city the past three days, and the week while I was in my recovery. Along with his attempt during my recovery from the Danzak Pit. I'll admit he was not perfect, a broken man joining a broken band of misfits, but he is trying.

Daenerys then stood up, going through her cleavage to get the item she was assigned to create. "Oh, we…we had something made for you. I'm not sure if it's right."

She handed me the pin, of a hand holding a sword surrounded by a ring. Made out of black steel forged by the same Qohor smith who made our armor. Although, I originally planned to make Jorah my Hand of the Queen in the beginning. My Bear always being there. Sadly, that could not happen. There was a reason why Jorah brought Tyrion to me. At first, it was to gift the son of my enemy. An eye for an eye. Even with Greyscale, Jorah continued to bring the dwarf to me. And after some time, it was to bring me counsel. A Lord who has a better understanding of running a kingdom. I placed the pin on Tyrion chest where the symbolism of the heart would be. His eyes widen when seeing the badge. When I pulled back, I gave a small smile.

"Tyrion Lannister, I name you Hand of the Queen," I murmured.

Tyrion bends the knee bowing before Daenerys and me.

I pray he doesn't let me down.

When the time came to sail, there was a departing party, and many citizens rushed to the streets to say goodbye. I waved goodbye to my subjects, the people who I fought for in their equality. All the ships were ready to set sail, as the ones I have collected from the Slave Masters held dragon bow. Many ships were named after the Valyrian Gods and the Targaryen Dragons. The three largest named after Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Grey Worm took charge of Vhagar, Black Scarab had Meraxes, as for the Small Council, Daenerys and I was on the leading ship of Balerion the Dread.

The Dragons took to the skies as we sail West to Westeros with our armies and allies.

_Well done, my Dragoness, it's time to return home,_ Visenya murmured in my ear.

"Alysanne, where do we sail too?" Daenerys asked.

I stared at the horizon, resting my left hand on the dragon pommel, "Where the Targaryens began. To Dragonstone."

Daenerys nodded as she stood right beside me, taking my right hand.

We were going home.

* * *

**Thus, ends Season Six.**

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**Also new chapter for a Doe in a Lion's Den is up as well!**

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	59. Chapter 59: Dragonstone

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 59: Dragonstone**

_The Citadel_

Samwell Tarly felt like he was in purgatory. A never-ending cycle of the same thing over and over again. Each day after kissing Gilly on the lips and a hug from little Sam, it would be hell. After breakfast, he is putting things back in their organized shelf. Next cleaning out chamber pots from the sick or elderly Archmaesters before dumping it in the privy that doesn't have the proper plumbing. Not like Horn Hill or Highgarden. Hell, Samwell would say Castle Black has been tending to the latrine pit better than here as he gagged. Then he is putting more books away. Once mid-meal arrives, he is serving stew to the official Maester. Back to putting books away before his assigned mentor Archmaester Ebrose teaches him.

Again, and again, it was the same thing. Books put away, cleaning shit, feeding the Maesters, and rare lessons. Books put away, cleaning shit, books put away, cleaning shit. He felt like that's all he ever does is putting books away and cleaning shit. When Maester Aemon was still alive, he taught Samwell many things. Even when the elderly man was blind, Aemon knew every word verbatim on every page. How to do a raven scroll properly and learning the basics in ointments. Here at the Citadel where knowledge is kept…he learns nothing.

One section that caught Samwell's interest was the restricted section, only Archmaesters and Maesters who have Valyrian steel links for magic were allowed access. He tried to get Archmaester Ebrose's permission to read the books. Books that may have knowledge that could defeat White Walker and the army of the dead. Asking again, during Maester Weylands autopsy. Sadly, he learned how isolated the Maesters of the Citadel were, they would rather preserve history instead of preventing it from repeating itself. Having no choice, Samwell borrows a key from one of the sleeping Maesters and had stolen a few books from the restricted section. Gilly helped him by reading some of the books he has stolen. It was then they discover a large quantity of dragon glass was in Dragonstone.

So far, there are three ways that can defeat a wight, dragon glass, fire, and Valyrian steel. Valyrian steel is hard to come by, and a fire takes time to burn a wight. However, dragon glass makes an instant kill to both wight and white walker. Based on this discovery, Samwell wrote a raven scroll to Jon.

The following day, there was a change in his schedule, no longer did he have to retrieve and clean the chamber pots. Although when assigned to meal service in the infectious hall, all the color left his cheek. The infectious hall was where all the people who were infected with highly contagious diseases resided. Mainly noble or wealthy patrons, with the occasional volunteer who have given up on their life but willing to be researched so the Maesters can find a cure.

So, putting on the first layer of gloves, then a massively long leather sleeve apron, and then another pair of gloves made his first round of collecting the bowls. He pushed the cart, nervous, as he passed each door. Caution is vital in this sector. One must try to prevent being touched by the infected, and not to touch themselves while in sterilized garb. Quickly Samwell would grab the bowl and lift the lid.

The Crow made to one door grabbing the bowl. Just as he pulled back, a scaly arm burst out, grabbing the other side of the metal bowl. Samwell gasped, stumbling backwards almost tripping over the cart. The young pupil panted as the bowl fell to the ground. He stared at the arm, seeing its condition of greys and blacks, calcified that made the skin cracked while expose blisters and lesions. Samwell recognize this from a book. Greyscale.

"Have they come yet?" the patient asked.

"Who?" Samwell replied.

"The Dragon Sisters, Alysanne Targaryen, and Daenerys Stormborn." The patient clarified.

"Haven't heard anything," Samwell answered.

The infected arm slid back inside the quarantine room. Samwell rushed over to close the lid, though he had a glimpse of a disappointed man. Not realizing the patient was Ser Jorah Mormont. It has been many months since he had left the Orange Shores to Oldtown. A long journey, when finding a ship that went directly from Orange Shore to Oldtown, and paying almost everything to acquire a private quarter. Months he kept himself isolated, as the potion Quaithe gave him prevented the spread from rapidly consuming his entire body, the disease has claimed his whole arm, and the majority of his back, chest, and torso. The Greyscale hardened his skin yet was still sensitive at the same time. Any movement would crack the skin rupturing sores and rashes that almost bleed.

By the time he arrived at Oldtown, the Maester had brought him in except they did not know what to do. Out of all the Maesters and Archmaesters, many do not want to study his condition, they kept passing his case around. A few Archmaesters and Maesters have come in, probing him taking notes yet they have done nothing except for providing a bowl filled with vinegar. Jorah has grown tired of the smell of vinegar, or the treatment he was given. Weeks since he has been here and no progress. He started to wonder if Quaithe was mistaken by her vision.

Let alone not receiving any news on what is going on in the world. So far, when he arrived in Oldtown word came that the Targaryens were sailing to Westeros. However, it could be three to five months before they arrived, depending on the current and weather. If only he were there to stand by Alysanne's side as she sailed off. The first time in over two decades, the true Queen was coming home.

Jorah sighed as he took off his shirt for the fabric was rubbing against the sores. He sat down on the bed, staring at the once yellow shirt. He remembers how he got it, a replica to his previous one. However, Alysanne being generous had sewn him a new one. He adjusted the fabric and stared at the small embroidery of AT on the collar. A sad smile lifted his lips, recalling memories of his paramour sitting by the fire or window and mending the fabrics. How she would hum or softly sing a song, not realizing she was doing it.

Then the thought about the dream distracted him. Seeing her healthy while playing with Joren. The life without seeking the Iron Throne. He sighed, knowing that can never be. At this point, death was inevitable. At least for him at the rate the Maesters are treating his case. It would probably be too late when they finally give the diagnoses and say, "There's nothing we can do." His worse fear is losing his humanity.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced at his sword that was in a black scabbard. The original scabbard with the peacock feather was still in the custody of Alysanne. She was the sheath to his sword. Not in a sexual way as others would put it. He closed his eyes, imagining what Alysanne was doing now.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

"Land Ho!" One of the sailors in the crows-nest called out.

Out of impulse, I rushed to the prow looking upon the horizon to see Dragonstone. A castle of Valyrian arcane architecture. In dreams, I roamed this Castle with Visenya. The last time I was here, I was merely four years old. The Castle where the heir resigns until his or her time comes to reclaim the Iron Throne. The place where the Targaryens took refuge before the Doom of Valyria.

So many emotions were stirring in my veins.

"I will have scouts inspect the fortress before you enter," Ser Barristan announced. "Make sure the coast is clear and there are no traps."

"Would Cersei set up traps?" Daenerys asked Tyrion.

"No, she would have evacuated the island though and burned off any of the crops," Tyrion answered.

"It's wise to send scouts, either way, ensuring no assassins are lurking in the shadows or soldiers at the ready," I said.

Ser Barristan nodded in approval.

It won't be until tomorrow morning that Daenerys and I set foot on the shores. We walked ahead until Daenerys knelt down, placing her hand in the sand. I followed suit, pressing my hand in the dark sand. Digging my nails into the wet volcanic grains. Completely different from the dreams, for this was real. I stared up ahead, gazing at the cliffs and rocks, resembling like scales. Through age and time, the weather chipped from the lands of the volcano called Dragonmont. Five hundred years Targaryen descendants ruled over this island, twelve years before the Doom. From the Targaryens to the short period of the seed descendants of Baratheons. All in all, the Valyrian bloodline still reigned.

Although my memories as a child of running through the beaches were gone. I knew Viserys and I had our moment of happiness to be children here. But there is more to this island than an ancestral home. This is where Daenerys was born and where our Queen Mother died. Her vessel laid to rest on this island. A blessing, since the Great Sept of Baelor was destroyed with all our family members since Baelor the Blessed. My eyes water, as I took a deep breath and looked at my sister as she held the same. This was our home.

We stood up as I lead the way to the gates. There we were greeted by two statues of dragon heads. Carved in the Valyrian arcane. Weatherworn, though in the dream they were sharped and detailed as red glass were in the eyes. Even then, time and age do not bother me. As I stepped forward with two Unsullied and pushed the door aside revealing the path to the Castle that is led by a narrow path of stairs. Onward we went walking up the steps and into the Castle for the first time in over two decades.

The Castle seemed barren, all the fineries gone, abandoned of life. However, the walls kept its history. Carved from rock, and the intricate patterns of scales, claws, and dragons all around. Reminding everyone how great the Valyrian were. Dragonstone and the remaining temple all around the world are what is left of a great civilization. As we enter the grand hall, a banner hung. A crowned black stag, inside a flaming heart on a white field. Daenerys came over and grabbed the banner and yank it down. I nodded, then went to the door where the Unsullied open it, before entering the throne room. A large chamber with a vaulted ceiling. All around the chamber it was carved from stone, as the sunshine bright through the clouds and into the room. Up ahead, was the Dragon Throne, a seat carved from the volcanic earth and engraved with scales. I kneel before the throne, drawing my sword doing prayer in Valyrian and Common Tongue to my ancestor's gods and the Seven. Here Lord Aenar Targaryen, the Exiled Dragonlord, leader of the last remaining Valyrians who believed in Daenys the Dream survived and reigned over Dragonstone.

Once done with my prayer, I sheathed my blade and noticed a door on my left. Standing up, I entered the room to discover the Chamber of the Painted Table. The table that dominated the room, carved in the shape of Westeros and engraved with its major cities and landmarks. It was considered to be the most accurate map three hundred years ago commissioned by Aegon Targaryen. Here is where he planned his conquest with Visenya and Rhaenys, along with his best friend, Orys Baratheon. Here is when the Targaryen dynasty began. In this chamber facing east towards Valyria while the carved dragon on the wall, turned his head facing west.

Daenerys touched the table tracing along with the details. Her eyes filled with wonder. This was her birthplace. When the war is won, as my heir Dragonstone will be her home if she ever decided to leave the Red Keep. I took the other side, as we walked along with the table from the North then down south to Dorne facing our Small Council. Ser Barristan stood there proudly. Grey Worm and Missandei marvel at the architecture, Varys stood there pleased, as Quentyn and his cousin Tyene Sand watched with the Greyjoy siblings. Lord Tyrion came over standing by my left and Daenerys on my right.

Many emotions stirred, feeling the faded magic from the volcanic island. The life it brought to my ancestors and the repopulation of the dragons before the second extinction.

"Shall we begin?" Daenerys asked.

"Tomorrow," I answered. "There is something we must do first."

This caught the Westerosi off guard.

"It's time we put our brother to rest," I explained, before leaving the room.

Daenerys followed along with our guards. During our transport over, I had a trunk brought to the island. The Unsullied who carried the trunk followed, as we made our way to the tombs where our ancestors were laid to rest. It was a long corridor where statues stood of the Targaryens standing over their pedestal. From Aenar's bloodline, twenty generations were laid to rest who did not rule the Seven Kingdoms. At the very end was the last Targaryen who was put to rest. For this first time since Daenerys birth, I faced my mother.

Instead of stone, her statue was made of marble. The sculptor carved every detail as if she was actually here. Ever since my resurrection, her face, voice, and perfume were gone. Now, I see her again in monotone color, a statuesque angel.

"Who is she?" Daenerys asked.

"Our Mother," I answered, cradling the statue's cheek. "Queen Rhaella Targaryen,"

Daenerys eyes widen as she gazed at the statue. "I wish I knew her."

"She was mindful of her duty," Ser Barristan said. "Even from her duty, she loved her children. Sacrificing everything for the safety of children."

"Even though I killed her," Daenerys mumbled.

I looked at her, resting a hand on her shoulder, "You did not kill our mother. The war, the stress, and the suffering of Father's abuse killed her. She made Viserys, and I promised to protect you. She loved you before she even met you. She named you when Father named the rest of us. What you can do is live and keep her legacy alive."

Daenerys nodded, looking back to Rhaella's statue. As she was lost in thought, I went over to the trunk and pulled out a large decorated urn. Inside were the remains of Viserys. Ever since his death, I have carried his remains throughout Essos, promising he shall be put to rest in Westeros. Unfortunately, I could not lay him to rest next to Father since the Sept of Baelor was destroyed. But I can put him to rest next to his mother. Until I can commission his statue, I set the urn by Mother's feet on the gravestone.

Viserys was my brother, rapist, husband, and abuser. Since his coming of age, he made my life a living hell. I hated the man he had become, the Beggar King, a shadow of a snake. Although I mourned the brother I grew up with as a child. His memory of the Red Keep was gone, the faint images of our short year in Dragonstone lingers. But our life in Braavos was still fresh. Viserys craved home, yet as a boy he was happy as we played in the garden, climbing lemon trees, pulling pranks, and acting as our knight against an invisible monster.

May he rest in peace.

* * *

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	60. Chapter 60: Alliances

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 60: Alliances**

_Alysanne's POV_

It was a dark and stormy night, as a lot of stories goes. A terrible storm blew over Blackwater, consuming Dragonstone. A faint memory on the night that Daenerys was born clouded my head. Viserys trying to comfort me from the terrifying storm, telling me the thunder and lightning were dragons fighting the monster of the sea Naga. As the storm progressed, the Royal Fleet was destroyed. Finally, when the storm came to an end, Daenerys was born.

It has been a few decades since I last saw a storm like this. In Braavos and the Free Cities that were islands, there were several occasions of rain. But none that were drastic, that would alter the waves and tide. The thunder constantly roaring while lighting follows in pursuit like a dance, all day and into the night. As the horizon vanished, seeing nothing but darkness. Only the flashes of lightning giving light to the dark bay.

Daenerys stood by the balcony watching the storm, while the Small Council was assembled. It has been a few days since we arrived at Dragonstone. Instead of rushing into battle, I wanted to secure alliances and secure a plan. Let alone waiting for a few more members of the War Council, as Lady Olenna of House Tyrell will be the emissary for her two grandsons along with her nephew Lord Paxter Redwyne. An envoy for House Velaryon, since Lord Monterys is a child, and Ser Terrance Celtigar, the grandson of Lord Ardrian. So far, I have a naval armada, thanks to the Reach, Dorne, and distant cousins who have joined my fleet. Our armies are growing by the thousands with Lady Olenna and her grandsons, including Prince Doran.

The Martells, Velaryons, Celtigar, and Targaryens proved that the Valyrians stay together. Although the Martells were not directly from the Valyrian bloodline, but from the Rhonyar, dragons blood runs in their veins. The events that happened to my serpent cousins were tragic, from Elia to Prince Trystane. Based on what Prince Quentyn told me, there are two types of Snakes in the world, the quick striking with venom and the constricting with patience. Prince Oberyn was the snake that strikes with venom, letting emotions and impulse take over. Which, sadly, resulted in his death with Ser Gregor Clegane. Instead of finishing the final blow on the Mountain, he taunted him to make the giant confess who gave the order. Unfortunately, the Mountain knocked the Red Viper down and crushed his skull with his bare hands.

Prince Doran, on the other hand, was a constricting type of snake. A python that remains hidden and patient, before trapping his prey and squeezing the life out of it. For more than two decades, Prince Doran planned his revenge to bring justice to his family. Although there were some complications and misunderstanding due to communication flaws…the Warden of Dorne waited for the opportunity. Even though he lost his sister, brother, niece, nephew, and youngest son along the way. What Ellaria Sand and the two eldest daughters of Prince Oberyn did was unthinkable. Trying to form an uprising and assassinate the third heir who was betrothed to a Lannister.

Myrcella Baratheon, although she was the daughter of my enemy, should not have been held accountable for her parents and grandfather's crimes. I do not hold children accountable for the crimes of their fathers. She was already betrothed to Prince Trystane, she would have become a Martell. No doubt she would not have supported me, and in our two lives, we would never form a courteous relationship, but I would never threaten her life. Unless she ever took arms against me.

"On a night like this, you came into the world," Tyrion told Daenerys.

"I remember that storm," Varys joined the conversation. "All the dogs in King's Landing howled through the night."

"I wish I could remember it," Daenerys said as she walked over to me. "I always thought this would be a homecoming. Doesn't feel like home."

"Home is the people, not a building," I said, then looked at the Painted Table analyzing the numbers.

"We won't stay in Dragonstone for long," Ser Barristan promised.

"Good," Daenerys said, then looked at the three lion totems, "Not so many lions."

"Cersei controls fewer than half of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of Westeros despise her," Varys explained, as he stood by the North. "Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now…"

"They cry out for their true Queen?" I sarcastically asked, walking around until I stood in front of Dragonstone. "They drink secret toasts to our health? People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them."

Daenerys came over, picking up the dragon totem. "If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back, he'd have invaded King's Landing already."

"Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you and your sister are not here to be ladies of the ashes." Tyrion said.

"No," Daenerys sighed, putting down the totem."

"We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse. If the great houses support your claim against Cersei, the game is won." Tyrion said. "With the Tyrell army, and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south."

"And the Velaryon, Celtigar, Redwyne, and Greyjoy fleet patrolling Blackwater Bay," Ser Barristan added.

I turned to Varys, "I never properly thanked you for that."

"They joined our side, my Queen, because they believe in you," Varys said with his version of a smile.

Varys has passed one of my tests. The letter I wrote to Price Doran states that if the letter has been opened, and the powder made contact with oils of the skin, it would reveal itself on the parchment. Had this happened, Prince Doran had the obligation of killing Varys for treason. Seeing the Spider standing before me shows he can somewhat be trusted. As my threat still remains, if Varys decides not to tell me I am failing the people, and betrays me, I will behead him myself.

Grey Worm came into the room, "Forgive me, my Queen. A red priestess from as'shai has come to see you."

"Kinvara?" Daenerys asked.

"No, not the High Priestess from Volantis," Grey Worm answered.

I never had the opportunity to thank the High Priestess of Volantis for resurrecting me. The Red Woman simply vanished, as reports state she returned to the Red Temple. Could it be Quaithe, the Shadow-binder that Jorah talked about? She helped Jorah in connecting our minds together to break the spell in the Dream. I was still cautious about the R'hllor faith, the fanatical beliefs, and their barbaric practice of purification. As if their religion is superior and all are heretics.

Curious, we left the Chamber of the Painted room, as Grey Worm escorted us to the throne room. Standing center was a beautiful woman by many. She has long hair the color of burnished copper and pale, flawless skin. Her eyes a vibrant blue that seems unnatural. Along with wearing red traveling robes and a hexagon collar necklace peaked out. The Red Woman gave a bow.

"_Queen Alysanne. I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged, and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains."_ She said.

_"The Red Priestess, Kinvara brought me from the veil of death, the Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen,"_ I replied. "_You are very welcome here."_

Her blue eyes widened when I mentioned Kinvara and my death.

"_What is your name?"_ I asked.

_"I am called Melisandre," _She answered.

"She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne," Varys interjected. "It didn't end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it? Or his daughter."

Melisandre face grew neutral, "No, it didn't."

"You chose an auspicious day to arrive at Dragonstone," Daenerys noted. "On the weather similar to the day I was born. The Lord of Light doesn't have many followers in Westeros, does he?"

"Not yet, but even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause," Melisandre said.

"Although I am thankful to be alive again, I worship the Seven and do not tolerate burning people alive based on their religious beliefs," I said. "Or the sacrificing of children."

"I gave the option of what the Lord of Light had asked from Stannis. He made the choice to sacrifice his daughter. The fault is his, and his alone." Melisandre defended calmly.

"What does your lord expect from me?" I asked.

_"The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn."_ Melisandre answered.

"The prince who was promised will bring the dawn," Daenerys translated. "I'm afraid my sister is not a prince."

"Your Highness, forgive me," Missandei spoke up. "but your translation is not quite accurate. That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for the prophecy would be, 'The prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn."

"Doesn't really roll off the tongue, does it?" Tyrion asked.

"No, but I like it better," Daenerys replied, smiling at me.

I scowled, "And you believe this prophecy refers to me?"

"Prophecies are dangerous things," Melisandre replied.

"We can both agree to that," I said.

"I believe you have a role to play. As does another—" She continued. "The King in the North, Jon Snow."

"Jon Snow?" Tyrion asked. "Ned Stark's bastard?"

Tyrion was not there for the report when Varys returned to Meereen. Only Ser Barristan, Missandei, Grey Worm, Daenerys, and I had the discussion. In case there was news relating to his family. What Varys reported we shared to Tyrion that relates to the war.

"You know him?" Daenerys asked.

"I traveled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch," Tyrion answered, still baffled by the news.

"And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow?" Varys asked the priestess. "Aside from the visions you've seen in the flames, that is."

"As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he allowed the wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from grave danger. As King in the North, he has united those wildlings with the Northern houses, so together they may face their common enemy." Melisandre answered.

"He sounds like quite a man," I murmured.

Melisandre nodded with a smile, "Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you the things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes."

Tyrion came over, "I can't speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow, and I trusted him. And I am an excellent judge of character. If he does rule the North, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do."

I thought about it. I made the decision long ago that the North shall receive its independence, after what Rhaegar and my Father did to House Stark. A sign of good faith. Hoping that one day in the future, my descendants and the ruler of the North's descendants can join our houses together again. Not in this generation or even in three generations, but in time. However, I question if the North is in good hands. Jon Snow was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Isn't being the King of the North also breaks him of his vows? Deserting the Night's Watch is punishable by death. So, shouldn't he be dead?

"Very well. Send a raven north," I said. "Tell King Jon Snow that I invite him to Dragonstone…"

"And bend the knee," Daenerys finished.

"Your Highness, the Northerners are stubborn men," Ser Barristan said. "After what your father did to the previous warden, they will not bend to a Targaryen."

"That is why I invite him to forge an alliance and discuss terms of truce," I assured sternly giving Daenerys a warning look. "I want to see if he is worthy to rule. Also, see how stubborn these Northmen are."

"But Alysanne, you said you want to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys argued.

"And I will rule the Seven Kingdoms, I just won't be reigning over the original Seven," I said. "We need the North on our side when the Long Night occurs."

Daenerys sighs, disagreeing with this decision. I am the Queen, and I need to do what is best for the Realm. For the people. If the Greyjoys can ask for their independence, why shouldn't the North? Our House wronged them, Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark against Lord Rickard Stark wishes, which resulted in the death of him and his son Brandon Stark. Sacrifices have to be made in order to receive forgiveness and trust.

"Trust me," I told her. "I know what I am doing."

Daenerys only nodded.

"It is late, it's best we get some rest for the night," I declared, as a clash of lightning and thunder bellow out. "If we can get any."

Excusing myself, I retire for the night returning to my quarters. It was the royal quarters, the largest chamber in the room for an apartment. Like all the other bedchambers, it was carved out from the stone. Candles lit all around, with a brazier in the center. On the opposite side of the room, was a four-poster bed with red linens. There were other essentials as well, from the wardrobe, tables, chairs, and lounges. Missandei helped me undress for the night, as she removed the leather armor and the rope braids out of my hair. I must confess I do miss my long hair, being able to manipulate and style it. Now I can only do the basics, yet Missandei finds other ways to help me express myself. Which is usually rope braids, snake braids, fishtails, and others. Thankfully I was still able to keep my hair out of my face.

Once Missandei was done, I free her of her service for tonight. The Naathi nodded as she left the room, leaving me alone in my chambers. I sighed, changing into my evening gown and robe. Sitting on the bed, I look out the balcony view of the ocean. It doesn't feel right, being here in Dragonstone without Jorah.

Walking over to the chest, I took out the scabbard of Jorah's sword.

_You are hopeless,_ Visenya murmured. _You are madly in love with your paramour._

_Weren't you ever in love?_ I asked.

_Love is the death of duty_' she answered.

_And duty is the death of love,_ I thought. _Please, you must have had feelings for someone?_

_I did, before my brother, a Velaryon, but my father wanted to secure the dragon magic and married me to my brother. Not long after, Aegon married Rhaenys. I was a duty, and she was desire,_ Visenya explains. _Women like us, we never get what we want. I pray your children to have it better than any of us._

_I hope so too,_ I sighed, gazing at the peacock feathers. _If I have any._

_You are not barren, not like your sister. As long as the father doesn't share the same blood as you and you stop taking those elixirs, you will be with child. The dangers of incest with the magic of Valyria gone is dangerous. It is not what it used to be. Everything is changing, even with the return of magic._

I nodded, putting the scabbard away before preparing for bed.

_You are in the Game now. Winter is here, and you will be challenged in deciding which battle is more important. Should your focus be on the enemies in the North or the enemies in the South._ Visenya added.

_It's too early for the Great War, I just arrived,_ I thought.

_The unknown is the unknown for a reason. Be prepared._

There was nothing more after that. She was right, my mission is not the Iron Throne. It is to redeem House Targaryen's name and prepare the Westerosi for the Long Night. I have no knowledge about the Night King or his army, other than they are dead. I will have to talk with Varys or Tyrion to find a Maester who has knowledge on the subject, even if it's merely written as legends.

**.o0o.**

_The North_

A raven arrived from Dragonstone which Maester Wolkan was confused by the dragon sigil on a black seal. It was addressed to the King in the North. The Maester delivered the note to Jon, who was in his chamber going over battle strategies for the Army of the Dead. He was confused since the Night's Watch has no sigil, only a black shield. So why was there a dragon on it? Breaking the seal, he silently read the parchment to discover it was written by Tyrion Lannister. At first, he thought it was a trick until the last line confirmed this wasn't Cersei Lannisters doing.

_The Dragon Queen wants to forge an alliance?_ Jon thought, a bit confused.

There hasn't been much talk about House Targaryen. Jon had heard that the last living Targaryens were somewhere in Essos. The only Targaryen he knew of personally was Maester Aemon. It was sad to lose a good mentor, the Dragon on the Wall, as he was secretly called. He taught him a lesson about the importance of duty and love. How love was the death of duty. Still, the White Wolf questioned this and left to find Sansa and Ser Davos. They gathered in the courtyards terrace, observing the children who were training how to be archers.

"You think it's really Tyrion?" Sansa asked, who was examining the parchment. "It could be someone trying to lure you into a trap."

"Read the last bit," Jon said.

"_"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes_," Sansa read aloud. "What does that mean?"

"It's something he said to me the first night we met," Jon said, watching the children train in archery. "You know him better than any of us." He turned facing her. "What do you think?"

Sansa paused, analyzing the situation, remembering her first husband, "Tyrion's not like the other Lannisters. He was always kind to me, but it's too great a risk. _'The Seven Kingdoms will bleed as long as Cersei sits on the Iron Throne. Join us. Together, we can end her tyranny_.' "

Ser Davos grabbed the scroll, "Sounds like a charmer. Of course, the casual mention of a Dothraki horde, a legion of Unsullied, and three dragons—a bit less charming."

The onion knight stopped, having a thought.

"What?" Jon asked.

"Fire kills wights, you told me," Ser Davos replied. "What breathes fire?"

Jon knew immediately, based on the legends that Dragons can breathe fire. Three flying dragons raining fire on the Army of the Dead could give them the advantage. The only problem was, what does Alysanne Targaryen want in this alliance. There was no statement of bending the knee, not like Queen Cersei's scroll. So does the Dragon Queen wish to form an alliance, to take down Cersei and that is that? The letter does address him as King Snow, not Lord Snow.

"You're not suggesting Jon meet with her?" Sansa asked.

"No, too dangerous," Ser Davos answered.

"But?" Jon asked.

"But if the Army of the Dead makes it past the Wall, do we have enough men to fight them?" Ser Davos replied.

All remained silent. It would be logical to have those three dragons to burn the Dead. The number of casualties would be limited. However, they were standing on thin ice. Does the Targaryen seek to claim the Seven Kingdoms or allow the North to be its own sovereignty? Sansa and Jon fought hard to reclaim Winterfell against the Boltons. The Battle of the Bastard left a red stain in Winterfell that will last for many generations. As Ramsey left a scar on everyone, physically, mentally, and emotionally. In the end, Tyrion's letter says alliance and nothing more. Jon focused on the young archers contemplating it more.

.**o0o**.

_The Citadel_

Jorah stood once more as an Archmaester came in with his apprentice to examine his condition. Archmaester Ebrose was careful, not digging his retractable baton into his flesh. A mere tap, gingerly probing so that it only made him wince instead of pain. As the elder Maester examined him, the apprentice, Samwell Tarly wrote the notes down. Unfortunately, instead of receiving positive news;

"The infection has spread too far," Ebrose declared, walking over to the desk, disinfecting his baton. "You should have cut off your arm the moment you were touched."

The Knight felt his heart sank, "How long?"

Archmaester Ebrose paused, staring at his condition before making an estimate, "It'll be years before it kills you. Could be ten. Could be twenty.

"How long until…?" Jorah couldn't finish it.

"Your mind? Six months, maybe fewer." Ebrose guessed as he took a tong that had a cotton swab drenched in pure alcohol to disinfect his tools.

Jorah took a deep breath as he took a seat on the bed. He wasted a few weeks for the Maesters to treat him. His case being tossed around, that he felt like he lost precious time. Samwell could sense the man's disappointment as he walked over to his mentor.

"Um…Pardon, Archmaester. I met Stannis Baratheon's daughter at Castle Black. She had the Greyscale as a baby and was cured."

Jorah looked at them with hope.

"No," Ebrose said.

"Isn't there some way –"

"Does this look like a baby to you?" Ebrose scolded pointing at the infected tissue.

"No," Samwell answered.

"Have you studied the varying rates of Greyscale progression in infants and fully-grown men?" Ebrose asked.

"No," Samwell answered.

If not being contaminated in Old Valyria. Where it was declared to be the primary source of the disease.

"Maester Cressen discovered Shireen Baratheon's affliction immediately. This is quite advanced," Ebrose explained, then turned to Jorah. "And beyond our skills, ser. Were you a commoner, I'd have you shipped to Valyria at once to live out your life with the stone men. As an anointed knight, and apologies of your case being mishandled, I'll allow you one more week." The Archmaester then glanced at the sword. "How you choose to spend that time is up to you."

Jorah stared at his sword and nodded.

"Come, Samwell," Ebrose said, leaving the room.

Samwell hesitated as he stared at the man, "Should we send word to your family, Ser….?"

"Jorah," the knight said. "Jorah Mormont."

"Mormont?" Samwell asked, surprised.

"There's no need. I've been dead to them for years." Jorah assured.

"Come, Samwell!" Ebrose called out.

Samwell nodded, collecting the tray with the tools before leaving the room. The apprentice for the Night's Watch was surprised that the patient with Greyscale was Jeor Mormont's son. Now Samwell felt like he had to do something. Lord Commander Jeor saved his life many times, even helped him escape Craster's Keep with Gilly and the baby. Sadly, Samwell felt guilty that he could not save Jeor from Karl who subdued him and Rast stabbing the Old Bear in the back. A coward, Samwell thought. Although he saved two lives, he felt like he failed his previous Lord Commander.

A life debt was made, and Samwell will figure out a way to repay his Lord Commander.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

The War Council was assembled from the leaders to the envoys that represent the Houses who support my claim to the Iron Throne. From my usual suspects of the Small Council, there were Yara and Theon Greyjoy, Lady Olenna from House Tyrell with her nephew Lord Paxter Redwyne from House Redwyne, Prince Quentyn Martell and his cousin Tyene, Ser Terrance of House Celtigar, and lastly, Captain Aurane Waters the uncle to Monterys for House Velaryon.

"If you want the Iron Throne, take it," Yara said. "We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now, hard, with everything we have. The city will fall within a day."

"If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorm," Tyrion argued.

"It's called war," Captain Aurane said. "You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding."

"House Martell's greatest regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you," Tyene bitterly added to Tyrion.

"That's enough," I spoke standing from my seat. "Lord Tyrion is Hand of the Queen. You will treat him with respect. I am not here to be the Queen of the Ashes."

"That's very nice to hear," Lady Olenna said, across the Painted Table. "Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her. The nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they're all just children, really. They won't obey you unless they fear you."

_I will not become my father_, I thought keeping a neutral expression. "I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your counsel. I'm grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. _'We'_ will not attack King's Landing."

"Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?" Lady Olenna asked.

_No wonder she earned her name of Queen of Thorns,_ I thought.

"We will lay siege to the Capital, surrounding the city on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people." I explained.

"But we won't use Dothraki and Unsullied," Tyrion said. "Cersei will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. It we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi."

"And I suppose we're providing the Westerosi?" Quentyn asked.

"You are," Tyrion said, grabbing the totem of a sun. "Prince Quentyn, write a letter to your father, letting him know that Lady Greyjoy will be escorting your cousin to Sunspear. And her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King's Landing." As he placed the Sun totem on the Capital. "The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army."

"Meanwhile, the Redwyne, Celtigar, and Velayron fleet will forge a blockade and deal with Euron Greyjoy's fleet. Reports have stated that he has five hundred battleships ready. Not a thousand." Ser Barristan added.

"Well, no one can make a thousand ships in less than a year," Lord Paxter muttered.

In the beginning, we were cautious about Captain Euron's declaration of building a thousand warships. However, ambitious as it was, it was basically impossible based on the resources by the Iron Islands that is considered barren except for fish. It if was Braavos, then maybe, but the Braavosi hold a price to that Euron cannot afford with the golden price, and the Braavosi does not accept the iron price unless it's your own life.

"So, your master plan is to use our armies," Lady Olenna said. "Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?"

"The Unsullied will have another objective," Tyrion explained, grabbing the Unsullied totem and moved around the table. "For decades, House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it." As he knocked the lion totem down on Casterly Rock.

"Afterwards, they will march east, taking the Twins in the Riverlands, and onward to the Vale." Ser Barristan added. "Securing the three Kingdoms, so the Lannisters have no allies to run too."

"What about the North or the Vale?" Captain Aurane asked. "Wouldn't they try to flee to the North?"

"House Stark is Cersei's enemy as well," Varys answered. "It would be a miracle if the lions and the wolves set their differences aside. And the Knights of the Vale remain neutral, after helping House Stark take down the Boltons."

"I am working on an alliance with House Stark," I assure them. "At this point, House Lannister and Euron Greyjoy are up against two great kingdoms and the Blood of Valyria. Do I have your support?"

The War Council paused thinking about it.

"You have mine," Yara said.

"Dorne is with you, Your Grace," Prince Quentyn said.

"House Celtigar have served the Targaryens for five hundred years," Ser Terrance said.

"House Velaryon is here for its cousin," Captain Aurane added.

Lord Paxter stared at Lady Olenna, who thought about it. After a moment, she nodded, as did the Captain.

"Thank you all, I am in your debt," I said, then stared at the Queen of Thorns, "Lady Olenna, may I speak with you in private?"

The War Council was dismissed. Once we had our privacy, I walked over to the North side of the table and faced the representative of the Reach. Based on my information, Lady Olenna was of House Redwyne before she married to Luthor Tyrell. She was almost intended to my great-uncle Prince Daeron Targaryen. However, it was not a question about the history of the olden times do I ask. I can see her grief has made her spiteful, more than a sharp tongue.

"I know you're here out for revenge on Cersei and not the support for me," I started. "But I swear to you, she will pay for what she's done. You have my word. And we will bring peace back to Westeros after the winter."

"Peace," Lady Olenna scoffed. "Do you think that's we had under your father? Or his father? Or his? Peace never lasts, my dear. Will you take a bit of advice from an old woman?"

I nodded.

"He's a clever man, your Hand. I've known a great many clever men. I've outlived them all. You know why? I ignored them."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"The Lords of Westeros are sheep. Are you a sheep? No. You're a dragon. Be a dragon." She said.

I nodded. However, being a dragon means destruction. My inner fire is something I contain. It was first ignited when I attempted to kill Viserys in his sleep, then striking him to protect Daenerys, then killing the Undying Ones back in Qarth. The dragon fire subdued, until seeing the Unsullied in Astapor and having my army bled against the Good Masters. With my council's help, I managed to tame the flame in Yunkai and Meereen. It wasn't until the second siege of Meereen did the dragon wake, though tame, the temptation to burn it all is there. I followed House Targaryen's motto of _'Fire and Blood'_ though redefine it as a choice of _Life and Death._ My personal motto is _Mercy, Peace, and Justice_.

We were silent for a moment until I brought in the next topic.

"Varys and Lord Tyrion told me that the Crown is in debt to the Iron Bank," I started.

"That it is," She confirmed.

"Since Cersei holds a vendetta against House Tyrell, I have a feeling Highgarden will be under siege. I did not report this until Varys gets confirmation from his little birds. I ask that you order your two grandsons to evacuate Highgarden and its citizens, along with transferring your riches to a different location." I said.

"You don't think- "

"House Tyrell is considered to be the richest family since Casterly Rock mines went dry. To prevent the extinction of House Tyrell, I request you evacuate Highgarden and your funding. Cersei will steal the gold and pay off the debt, and if the whispers are true, use it to acquire the Golden Company."

Lady Olenna paused as she thought about it, "And what will happen once the Lannisters take Highgarden? You think we will just give it up?"

"Aegon the Conqueror chose House Tyrell for a reason. I assure you that House Tyrell will remain wardens of the Reach. Once the Lannisters take Highgarden, they will be met with a horde." I promised.

It took Lady Olenna a moment to understand what I meant. There is a reason why the Dothraki were not mentioned in the meeting. At first, it was a struggle to teach the Dothraki about control. This war will not be a bloodbath. There will be no pillaging or raping any of the cities or villages. The Lannister Army is one the most elite in Westeros since Tywin Lannister took over House Lannister. The Unsullied can defeat them, but two armies taught in the code of arms could end numbers. But the Dothraki, with their spontaneous instinct can overpower them. It's just Daenerys needs to limit the bloodshed. The Realm will need all the men we can get when the Long Night occurs.

* * *

**Hey guys, so you noticed there are characters from the book. In this version, Tyene is not Ellaria's daughter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	61. Chapter 61: The Means of Survival

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: I need to get this off my chest. WHAT THE HELL D&D!? Have you ever heard the words timeline and continuity? Not everything happens in a single day? Jorah can't have a quick recovery unless Sam is, in fact, a wizard? The Unsullied and the Greyjoys left at the same time, yet Yara's fleet gets captured, and the Unsullied continues to Lannisport? And Daenerys and the Dothraki travel through the Blackwater Bay, through the Crownlands to the Reach in three days defeat to the Tarlys and be back the next day, without Tyrion in both locations is basically impossible. Unless he flew on a dragon and decided not to film it? (I mean, it would have been awesome to see Tyrion ride a dragon.) And don't get me started on the North Expedition to get a wight. Is Gendry the Flash and the ravens on steroids. I remember MattPatt having the fan theory of distance and time that all living organism are giants while the lands are still the same. But if we are going to believe that these characters are naturally human…and magic is limited…then everything else is practically impossible. The other writers try to keep a timeline when mentioning days or using the words, "is has been/It will take… (Insert fortnight, month, a few months/weeks), yet episodes D&D hardly uses it. Are you telling me this all happens in six years? When in the book, it so far has been three years.**_

_**Sorry to my fellow readers who read the rant. I needed to get it off my chest. I will try my best to make the timeline seem more realistic as possible. xXFallenSakuraXx52 has been helping me to keep track of the plot. If you think I am rushing, let me know in the reviews. I'm going to try to alter Season 7 and Season 8, so it doesn't seem like a Summer Blockbuster where you get the adrenaline but no plot.**_

_**Also Warning: this Chapter is rated M for Sexual Content.**_

* * *

**Chapter 61: The Means of Survival!**

_Dragonstone_.

Grey Worm sat in his room, sharpening his short sword in preparation for the attack on Casterly Rock. They will be sailing south around Westeros. At first, he thought they would be sailing North; however, Captain Aurane stated it's difficult to navigate around the Northern half of Westeros. Once you passed Hardhome, the water becomes ice even during the summer. No one ever explores the far North the same as no one has sailed west from Westeros. Along with explorers in Essos, who vanished as they travel the far east of Essos passed the Grey Waste. Lord Paxter and Captain Aurane explained to each of the Dragon Fleet of a current called the Leviathan Trail, an unexplained current that moves Souths, easy to go through to the Summer Sea.

The Commander of the Unsullied was thankful that his Queens allies were knowledgeable about the oceans. Time was of the essence. Although wars can last for many years, he wanted to make this war quick.

There was a knock on the door. He thought it was one of the officers, so he called out "Maji" letting his brother in. However, it was not one of the officers; instead, it was Missandei of Naath. Immediately, he stood up putting his sword away, thinking she was here to escort him to see the Queen. Except, the Naathi appeared to be in distress, as her eyes water.

"You leave tomorrow," Missandei said.

Grey Worm nodded.

"Were you going to say goodbye?" Missandei asked.

"I will see you when I return," Grey Worm answered, trying to keep his composure.

"But you don't know when that will be," She said.

Grey Worm shook his head, "No one knows."

Missandei, slightly hurt, nodded, "I wish you good fortune."

She turned to leave. Grey Worm had to confess his feeling. Over the past few years, he's come to care for Missandei of Naath deeply. Although he did not know what this feeling was, yet it reminded him how Ser Jorah the Andal shared his affection with Queen Alysanne. Wanting nothing more to protect the person he loves, yet knowing she was his weakness. Love, as the Westerosi knights called it. Even though he wasn't passionate as the Tyroshi Daario Naharis, the emotions he held for Missandei ached inside him, and seeing her hurt for not giving a proper goodbye made his heart tighten.

"Missandei!" He called out to stop her.

She stopped at the door, turning around to face him.

Grey Worm took a deep breath, "It is hard for me to say goodbye to you."

"Why?" She asked.

"You know why," he answered.

"I don't."

The Unsullied felt his stomach tighten and throat clenching, for the second time in his life, he was afraid. Again, both fears revolving around Missandei.

"Y—You are my weakness," he confessed.

"That's what I am?" She asked, slightly offended. "You're weakness?"

"When Unsullied are young, the masters learn their fears." He tried to explain. "One boy is scared of dogs, one boy hates high places, one is frightened of the ocean. They make the boy sleep with dogs or climb a cliff. They throw him in the water. If he learns to swim, good. If he drowns, good. Either way, strong Unsullied. But I had no fears. I was never the biggest, never the strongest…but I was the bravest, always."

"I believe it." She said, grasping his words.

"Until…I meet Missandei from the Isle of Naath. Now I have fear." He said, his eyes started to water.

"I do, too." She agreed.

Grey Worm looked down, still having a hard time grasping these feelings. When he looked up, he could see the complication of their relationship. Communication. Not verbal communication but emotional and physical. Unable to take it anymore, he rushed over and kissed Missandei, expressing how he felt, his hands cupping her cheeks, as he kissed her a few more times, and to his surprise she kissed him back. He pulled back to see her full reaction. To him, he thought he saw rejection. Repressing his dismay and disappointment, he pulled back while stopping the sniffles. Not crying like this since he was cut from the pain.

When he looked at her again, he noticed she was unlacing her gown. When the string came off, Missandei took the gown off, revealing herself to him. His eyes widen, not seeing her naked since the river as she bathed. She kicked off her underskirt and stood before him. Not a second longer, she stepped over to him, yanking the leather straps of his tunic to unfasten it and tossed the fabric aside. Grey Worm was overwhelmed, transfixed on her body, then when she began to work on the strings of his trousers, he stopped her.

"No," he pleaded.

Missandei looked into his eyes, "I want to see you. Please."

Grey Worm paused, seeing how sincere she was. This is what he was afraid of, the reason why he doesn't pursue the relationship. Yes, like many Unsullied he was castrated, not emasculated, but his testicles were cut off when he was young, making him unable to produce seeds to have children. But also, his penis was not so grand or average. It was small, unable to cover the disfiguring scars from where his balls used to be along with the lack of hair. Not once in his life has he ever had an erection or at least tempted by sexual intercourse. But he trusted her. So…he nodded.

Missandei slowly untied the fasting to his trousers, exposing the trauma that the Unsullied goes through during initiation. She stared at it for a moment, one might compare it to a child. Yet, she did not laugh at him. She merely gave a genuine smile before placing her hand on his shoulders and kissed him. Although, he did not kiss back, he was still nervous about where this was going.

The Naathi noticed this, as she took his hand and lead him to the bed. She scooted back so that she was in the center of the feather mattress with Grey Worm on top. She was nervous as well since she was in control of her body. The last time she was intimate, it was when she was a slave and played the _'game'_ with Kraznys and with other slave girls. She felt nothing, however, with Grey Worm, her heart accelerated as if it would rip out of her chest.

Grey Worm noticed this, wanting to ease her fear and leaned down and kissed her softly. Knowing he cannot perform like other men, he thought back to a conversation with Daario Naharis. Remembering the Tyroshi talking about pleasing a woman's pussy with your mouth, how the breast can be pleased, and so much more. So Grey Worm did just that, he kissed her neck listening to Missandei's reaction until going down, kissing each of her breasts, noticing her nipples were erect. Taking that as a good sign, he went lower places kisses on her sternum and thighs. Gently he pulled her legs apart until facing her womanhood.

Moving one of Missandei's legs over his shoulder, he kissed the sweet spot between her legs and lashed his tongue along the tender folds. Missandei gasped, panting, which the Unsullied took as a good sign to continue. From the uneasy lessons from Naharis, he searched for the clitoris, the pearl is hidden inside the hood, sucking on the gem while inserting his finger inside her core. Missandei moaned, body tensed from the pleasure he was giving her. Throughout time, he manipulated his tongue, lashing, and sucking, finding different reactions from her. Feeling her core becoming wetter as the walls trembled around his fingers. It wasn't until he twisted his hand, pressing the top of her canal that he touched a rigged flesh that sent her over the edge. Missandei cried out his name while her hand gripped his scalp while she came. Grey Worm stayed where he was, tasting her nectar finding the taste different and unique.

Once the high passed, Missandei sat up, wanting to kiss him. Just as she gently pulled her lover up, she stopped noticing a difference in his privates, seeing the penis erect. Grey Worm looked down, as his eyes widen, not realizing it. Was he…aroused? Missandei was astonished as he was, for she thought that was not possible. However, not wanting to risk this opportunity, she laid down, guiding him on top.

"Missandei…I…," he started.

"I want you inside me," She whispered, placing a peck on his lips.

Grey Worm nodded as he tried to do so. He fumbled, not sure what to do. No one told him how to put it inside a woman. Missandei noticed this and guided him. Slowly he slid inside, and each of them gasped. The Unsullied groaned, feeling how hot, tight, and moist she was. Missandei, on the other hand, felt her walls slightly stretch. It wasn't like the previous men who she was forced to sleep with. He wasn't big, nor average, but she could feel him there, and that is all that matter. They were joined together, being one.

By his body's instinct, he moved his hips in an awkward thrust. She smiled at him, pulling him down that he was literally laying on top of her while their lips met. One together physically, yet the real intimacy was through their emotions.

That was how their night was spent.

When the morning came, they did not climb out of bed. Not wanting to leave the warmth from one another. But they must. They tried to prolong it, with soft kisses and caressing one another. It wasn't until an officer knocked on the door, announcing it was time to leave that they pulled away from one another. Grey Worm sighed in defeat as he climbed out of bed to get dress. Missandei curled up on the bed, adjusting the sheets to cover herself from the morning chill. Her brown eyes watching him as he put on his uniform. She prayed to her gods to keep him safe as he sails around Westeros.

She remembers a moment between her Queen and Ser Jorah. As she took the ribbon that was tied in her hair and climbed out of bed, to face him. She took hold of his right hand and wrapped the ribbon around his wrist.

"Missandei," he murmured.

"Come back to me, Torgo Nudho," She whispered.

Grey Worm took her hand and softly kissed it, "I will, Missandei of Naath."

Later on, Missandei stood by Queen Alysanne who gave a speech to the Unsullied for their safe travels and the honor of having them as her army. The Naathi was focused on Grey Worm, who stood proudly, though his brown eyes linger on her. She desperately tried not to blush for what happened last night. One would say it was a miracle.

.**o0o**.

_The Citadel._

Samwell followed Archmaester Ebrose into one of the many sectors of the library dedicated to wars. The past few days during his leisure time, Samwell was going through the medical section on curing rare diseases. One book called _'Achmaester Pylos on Rare Diseases'_

Thinking this could save Ser Jorah Mormont, the apprentice tried to inform his mentor of his discovery. Assuming that with so much information in the Citadel, it's understandable to forget a few things here and there. Although, Samwell struggled to get a word in as Archmaester Ebrose was transfixed on his speech of praising and insulting Maesters who wrote books about history. Shoving each hardcover transcript into the lad's arm.

"Might be useful," Ebrose said, placing the text _'A History of the House of Lannister'_ in the pile. "Ch'vyalthan was a dreadful writer, but an excellent researcher."

"Archmaester, I wondered if I –" Samwell started, following his mentor who walked over to another shelf pulling out another book.

"And this one. Maester Faull was quite the opposite—" the Archmaester said, dropping another book in Samwell's arm. "A brilliant stylist who invented half the stories he tells."

"Um, I wanted to ask you—"

"If you're going to write histories, Tarly, you have to do the research. If you want people to read your histories, you need a bit of style. I'm not writing _'A Chronicle of the Wars Following the Death of King Robert I,'_ so it can sit on a shelf unread."

Samwell paused, not finding the title at all interesting. From his rounds, he probably has seen 'A Chronicle of…' so many times, that neither of them holds interest to remember what the chronicle was about. Archmaester Ebrose turned around seeing the young man's lack of interest in the title.

"What? You don't like the title?" Ebrose asked. Samwell gave an awkward shrug, slightly shaking his head. "What would you call it then?"

"Mm, possibly something a bit more poetic?" Samwell answered.

"We're not poets, Tarly," Ebrose scoffed, leading the way to another shelf.

Samwell followed, "Um, Archmaester, if I could just have a moment."

"This is your moment. Use it wisely."

"I may have found a way to treat Ser Jorah. There are two recorded cases of advanced Greyscale being cured. I found the procedure in the study of rare diseased by Archmaester Pylos."

Ebrose grabbed a book and added to the pile, though Samwell had to use his chin to keep the frail text from falling off.

"I'm familiar with Archmaester Pylos and his study of rare diseases," Ebrose said searching for another book.

"Oh, you are?" Samwell asked, impressed.

"Yes, and shall I tell you how he died?" Ebrose asked, adding the book to the pile. "From Greyscale."

Samwell's eyes widen, not expecting that, "Oh."

"The procedure's far too dangerous, which is why it's forbidden," The Archmaester said. Seeing that Tarly has a arms worth of reading, declared that would be enough for his apprentice leisure reads for the following week.

Meanwhile, Samwell thought about Ebrose's warning and from Archmaester Pylos instructions. Based on the documents, Pylos was an elderly man when he died. At first, Samwell thought it was merely age, not Greyscale. He assumed that the man's age affected his memory and muscle that he did not follow the procedure correctly, or the subject had touched him when madness took over. Ser Jorah hasn't reached the loss of humanity yet, appearing calm. Depressed, but still calm. Wanting to repay the life debt to Jeor Mormont, he had to save Ser Jorah.

So, by the evening hours, he went to the apothecary pantry gathering the herbs he needed. He stole a Maesters medical kit, and quietly sneaked through the halls to get the ointment prepped in a closet until it was the dead of night when the Maesters and Archmaesters are lost in their dreams.

**.o0o.**

_Ser Jorah's POV._

Jorah couldn't sleep, for the past few days he contemplated on his decisions. The diagnoses from Archmaester Ebrose made it clear that death was inevitable in the next ten to twenty years. However, his sanity may be gone in six months or less. Whatever Quaithe saw in her vision of him finding the cure was sadly mistaken. Along with a waste of a potion that prolongs the spread. Unfortunately, he has finally given up.

So, he wrote letters to his friends, sending his final farewells to the people that mattered. Being careful not to touch the paper using the quill to move each parchment aside. He wrote to Ser Barristan telling him to take care of the girls, to Grey Worm, to Tyrion, to Daenerys, and finally to Alysanne. Her letter was the hardest to write, not sure how to address so many things on a single paper. Wanting to talk about when he fell in love with her, their times traveling, training, the blossom of their relationship, his commitment, and…the dream. Wanting to apologize that he could not give her what her heart truly desired, a home and family.

Each attempt he tried to write it he crumbled the paper up. His love for Alysanne was more than lust for a beautiful woman, devotion to a Queen, and love for a girl. He knew when the seed of love took root, he could never have her. Eighteen years, if he did the math correctly was their age difference. Recalling when news spread of Princess Alysanne's birth after the devastated execution of ten noblemen. A princess locked in a tower in Maegors Holdfast, kept away from society only to be exiled by the actions of Rhaegar and King Aerys the Second. An orphan girl out in the world trying to save what remains of her family alive. An orphan who became a battered woman by the hands of her abusive brother-husband, before rising up to become a Warrior Queen.

Jorah did not see the power in Alysanne's indigo eyes. The shade of purple that was almost a dark blue. A good Queen that Westeros needed. She did not want power, she wanted her family home, to bring Daenerys home. And when she entered the House of the Undying and saw a threat far more significant than war among men, she wanted to protect the people. A selfless woman. Even when people tell her about the Iron Throne, her response was, "It's just a chair."

A sigh left him, as he wrote the letter to her for the fifth time. It was late in the night, hearing nothing but the occasional seagulls and crackling of the Citadel's touch. That was when the sound of a cartwheel squeaking could be heard in the hall. Jorah assumed it was one of the apprentices collecting the evening bowls. Ignoring it, he went back to writing his letter.

_Alysanne,_

_I came to the Citadel in the last hope that the Maesters could treat me, as Daenerys ordered. Even with all their arts, I am beyond any cure but the grave. I have had a longer life than I deserved, and I only wish I could've lived to see the world you're going to build, standing by your side. I have loved you since the moment I heard you sing by the fire sewing in the Dothraki Sea…_

That is when the door opened. He placed the quill back in the ink jar before standing up. Jorah thought he was given a week, and it had only been three days since Ebrose gave him that deadline. So, there shouldn't be anyone entering. Unless it was the guards, who were going to force him on a ship to be sent to Valyria. Instead, it was Ebrose's apprentice, dressed in medical garb pushing in a cart.

"Hello," the apprentice whispered as he closed the door and went back to the cart.

The Knight noticed some herbs, bowls, and a large book, "What are you doing?"

"You're Jorah Mormont, the only son of Jeor Mormont." The apprentice said, setting up his station. "My name is Samwell Tarly, Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, training to serve as Maester at Castle Black. I knew your father. I was with him when he died." Samwell turned around, facing him. "You are not dying today, Ser Jorah."

_"West to Westeros, in the tower where knowledge resigns. A life debt will come in favor of your father."_ Quaithe voiced whispered in his head.

Jorah thought it was nonsense. But now a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch was here to cure him. He questions this, for the Maester was in his eyes a boy in a sense. Not even a trained Maester yet.

Samwell grabbed a waterskin handing it to Jorah, "Drink this?"

"What is it?" Jorah asked.

"Rum," Samwell answered. "Drink it all, please. I'm afraid this is going to hurt."

Jorah nodded, grabbing it with his right hand to take a sip. Before Jorah brought it to his lips, Samwell stopped him, taking the waterskin and took a good swig to calm his nerves. When given the waterskin, Jorah drank all of the rum, ignoring the slight burn from the alcohol. Jorah was a bit hesitant, wondering if this was wise. The young man opened the book and found his page.

"If you could take off your shirt," Samwell instructed.

Jorah nodded, handing him the waterskin then took off his shirt. A groan of pain as the fabric brushed against the scale. Samwell stared at the affliction, seeing the black and dark grey scales, and the red sores underneath. Shaking his head, he grabbed the leather.

"If you wouldn't mind, bite down hard," Samwell instructed, giving a nervous expression. "I'm sorry, but no one knows I'm here, and if they hear you screaming, then we're both finished."

Jorah was now more concerned, watching the young man pulling out the stool. Then placed the book on the desk closer to the stool.

"Have you ever done this before?" Jorah asked.

Samwell paused, taking a moment to stand up and faced him, "No."

Jorah raised a brow.

"But no one else will try it, so I'm the best you've got," the young man said. Then pointed to the stool, "Have a seat."

Realizing the Crow had a point, he took a seat. This was his only chance to be cured and return to the girls. Return to Alysanne. He doesn't know where their relationship stood at, but he promised Rhaegar to protect her. From all the Targaryen spirits talking about the Long Night, and the visions Alysanne had, he had to be there. So, he sat down and placed the folded leather in his mouth.

Samwell came over, "I'm going to have to remove the entire upper layer of infected tissue, then apply a medical ointment to the…"

Jorah gave him a look that says, _'Just do it.'_

The Crow nodded, collecting the tools needed and started. Using a pair of tweezers, Samwell grabbed a portion of the infected tissue. Pain similar to be being struck by an arrow, shot through his chest, causing Jorah to groan and the body's reaction to pulling away.

"Shh, shh!" Samwell whispered. "Again, I'm sorry, but please try not to scream."

Jorah took a few deep breaths, glancing at the door. If the Maesters or guards find out, then Samwell will be expelled from the Citadel and he would be shipped off to Valyria. Both were risking everything on this chance. So, with a deep breath, he nodded to the apprentice. Samwell took a deep breath, using the tweezer to grab the infected tissue and the scalpel to start cutting it off. A foul smell engulfed the room, as green puss started to leak out. Jorah grunted, clenching his fist and biting hard on the leather. Out of all the injuries he'd acquired in wars and adventures, being shot by arrows, cut, stabbed, beaten and trampled, this is by far the worse he has ever felt. It was impossible to describe it, only that it hurts like hell. Making him whimper and grunt, reconsidering it to stop. He glanced down, seeing the process, exposing in what he thought was flesh. Samwell noticed this and started cutting vigor yet still careful. Jorah whimper and groan, until Samwell cut a large portion off, almost ripping it that almost made the knight shout if the leather hadn't muffled it.

Jorah panted looking down again seeing the large portion of the Greyscale gone from his peck. Staring at it, he thought this was his only way to survive. He then glanced at the shirt on the ground, faintly seeing the AT embroidery on the collar. As much as it hurt, he made a promise to be there for Alysanne. So, looking up at Samwell, he stared at Jorah with a silent question if he should continue. Jorah nodded, clenching his fist as the Tarly went in again.

Being flayed alive was the worst thing imaginable. Almost made him wonder if Samwell was a Bolton. Each slice digging in, cutting off his skin, before yanking it off. All his sins being condensed into the disease. From selling two poachers into slavery, killing men for gold to fund Lynesse the physical form of lust, betraying his Liege Lord, betraying Daenerys and Alysanne, dishonoring his House, was being cut off piece by piece. Freeing the slaves from the Masters in Slaver's Bay wasn't enough, selling himself into the fighting pits wasn't enough to atone for his crimes. Years of running away instead of facing his wrongs. Losing his honor all because of lust and debt. Even when Alysanne and Daenerys forgave him of his betrayal, before getting to know each other, the burden was there. There were times in Pentos when he saw Viserys and Alysanne he could have stopped the abuse. Could've been his father and marched in there and beaten the man for striking a woman out of rage.

Memories flashes over the years of knowing the Targaryen siblings. Seeing Alysanne officially in her black dress at Daenerys wedding, silent, observing, only to tense when Viserys whispered in her ear. The journey to Vaes Dothrak, covered in bruises, then the moment after her assault from Viserys, seeing a broken woman not wanting to be touched. Her fear after striking Viserys. Her gratitude when giving her a long surcoat, falling into the firepit, the joy in the western market then caution, time spent training. So many memories, from Qarth struggling on the decision to marry Xaro Xhoan Daxos or not. That moment alone in the room of where to go was when it all started. Unable to express his feelings for her. And yet…he gave her time.

Two introverted people coming together.

Until the betrayal was discovered. Jorah seeing the agony in her eyes as she banished him. As he reached out to touch her, only to be smacked away, as she seethed, ""Don't _ever_ presume to touch me again or speak my name," Each painful memory intensifying as Tarly continued cutting away at his flesh. Being punished for every moment he did wrong in history.

Hours of being flayed alive so he can be with Alysanne again.

Once Samwell removed the infected tissue, he applied the ointment that stung like acid on the exposed flesh. Jorah nearly dropped the leather in his mouth screaming. Clenching his fist, he bears through the burning sensation, lathered in ointments and herbs. When the Crow was done smearing the salve, he guided Jorah to the bed and told him not to move.

"I'll be back tomorrow night to make the next application of the ointment. Try not to move." Samwell said.

Jorah nodded until sleep claimed him from exhaustion.

The rest of the week was like that. Every night, Samwell will come into his chamber to apply the ointment. Whatever was in it, must have a magical quality, as the damaged flesh began to mend itself. On the sixth night of his stay, Samwell was about to add the next coating only to stop seeing his skin was almost back to normal. However, there was scar tissue, raised skin in burning reds and pinks all along where the greyscale used to resign. Applying the ointment, Jorah wonders if this will be the last. All three days, he felt like his skin was inflamed.

So, on the eighth day, the day he was supposed to leave, Sam rushed in the morning to remove the ointment and apply fresh sheets and linens to mask the fact something else happened here. When the sun has risen, two guards entered to escort Jorah out but stopped not seeing the Greyscale. Both guards were confused and left to fetch the Archmaester.

A Maester who was on the floor came in and ordered to get fresh clothes for him. His apprentice did so before the Maester told Jorah to strip and change into the new clothes. Jorah complied, putting on the clean trouser and boots. Unfortunately, Maester came in taking his previous clothes.

"Let me keep the shirt," Jorah said.

"Ser, the shirt is contaminated with Greyscale, it must be destroyed, so it doesn't spread," the Maester explained.

Jorah sighed, watching as the only thing he had of his paramour be taken away.

It would be an hour later, when Archmaester Ebrose and Samwell entered the room. The old man took out his retractable baton and started touching the exposed skin. Jorah winced slightly since the skin was tender. The Archmaester probed around.

"Does it hurt?" Archmaester Ebrose asked.

"A bit. Less than before," Jorah answered.

"The infection no longer appears to be active," Ebrose said.

Jorah sighed in relief.

"Unusual." Ebrose continued, examining him. "Unlikely. One could almost be forgiven for thinking the entire upper layer of diseased skin was debrided and the underlying region treated with some sort of unguent."

"Don't know anything about that. I just started feeling better." Jorah said, watching as the baton retracted. "I assumed it was the rest that did it. And the climate."

Samwell bit his lips behind Ebrose thinking that was a bit too much.

"The climate," Ebrose said, having doubt written on his face. "You're free to go, Ser. This chamber is needed for the infectious, which you are no longer."

Jorah nodded, pleased to hear that.

Ebrose started to leave, saying, "Tarly, I'd like to speak with you in my study this evening."

Once the Archmaester was gone, the two men look at each other.

"How bad is it?" Jorah asked.

"Suppose I'll find out this evening," Samwell answered.

Jorah nodded as he went to grab his new shirt putting it on.

"Where will you go?" Samwell asked.

Jorah grunts slightly, putting the muslin on, "I surrendered to this sickness the moment I first saw it. I knew it would kill me, or I'd killed myself before it could. Daenerys Stormborn convinced me otherwise. The only place for me is back with the Dragon Sisters."

_And finally return__to Alysanne's side_, he thought.

"I owe my life to them and you," Jorah added, facing the young apprentice.

Samwell chuckled slightly, "Your father saved me more than once. It's the least I could do."

Jorah nodded, "Perhaps our paths will cross again."

"I hope they do," Samwell agreed, offering a hand.

This surprised the Knight, hesitantly he shook Samwell's hand. Having the official touch since Alysanne in Meereen. He felt so much gratitude, no longer rejected by society because of Greyscale. Able to feel accepted. Samwell could see that, knowing he did right. Nothing else to say, the Tarly left leaving Jorah to finish getting dressed. Jorah sighed, staring out the window as the sunrays lighten the room.

**.o0o.**

_The North._

A letter from the Citadel arrived for Jon. The King in the North was wondering why he keeps on getting letters. First, from the other Northern lords seeking forgiveness in not supporting the Starks during the Battle of the Bastards, next Queen Cersei ordering him to bend the knee, then Queen Alysanne Targaryen inviting him to Dragonstone to forge an alliance, and now this letter. Jon had a feeling he knew where the raven came from, accepting the scroll and read it.

It was from his best friend Samwell, informing him there is an abundance of dragon glass that could be found on Dragonstone. Jon appreciated this information, but then he stared at the map where Dragonstone was. Since receiving the raven scroll from the Dragon Queen, the past week he has been thinking about the decision to meet Alysanne Targaryen and discuss a truce. The problem was, he did not know what kind of Queen she was. The North doesn't get much news on what is happening around the world. The farther North you go, the longer it takes. Based on Tyrion's letter, it doesn't mention about bending the knee, and it addressed him as King Snow, not Lord Snow or bastard.

So, what should he do? Winter was here, and the army of the dead are marching south. The Wall is the only blockade the realm has before the Night King finds a way to break through and unleash the Great War. Does he wait until the time comes, or does he take this dangerous opportunity to get the dragon glass and a powerful ally?

Making the decision, he summoned a gathering.

"This message was sent to me by Samwell Tarly. He was my brother at the Night's Watch, a man I trust as much as anyone in this world." Jon announced holding the raven scroll. "He's discovered proof that Dragonstone sits on a mountain of dragon glass."

Murmurs were passed around. He handed Samwell's letter to Lord Robert Glover.

Jon lifted the other scroll up, "I received this a week ago from Dragonstone. It was sent to me by Tyrion Lannister."

Many lords began to talk since they did not trust a Lannister.

"He is now Hand of the Queen to Alysanne Targaryen. She intends to take the Iron Throne from Cersei. She has a powerful army at her back and, if this message is to be believed, three dragons." Jon said, which the lords began to protest. "Lord Tyrion has invited me to Dragonstone to meet with Alysanne. And I'm going to accept."

The Lords agued. Jon looked at Sansa, seeing his sister in shock.

"We need this dragon glass, my lords!" Jon shouted to silence them. "We know that dragon glass can destroy both white walkers and their army. We need to mine it and turn it into weapons. But more importantly, we need allies! The Night King's army grows larger by the day. We can't defeat them on our own. We don't have the numbers. The Targaryen Sisters has their own army, and they have dragon fire. I need to try and persuade them to fight with us. Ser Davos and I will ride for White Harbor tomorrow, then sail to Dragonstone."

"Have you forgotten what happened to our grandfather?" Sansa asked him. "The Mad King invited him to King's Landing and roasted him alive."

"I know that," Jon replied.

"She is here to reclaim the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms." Sansa continued. "The North is one of those seven Kingdoms. This isn't an invitation; it's a trap."

"It could be, but I don't believe Tyrion would do that. You know him. He's a good man." Jon said.

Lord Royce stood up, "Your Grace, with respect, I must agree with Lady Sansa. I remember the Mad King all too well. A Targaryen cannot be trusted. Nor can a Lannister."

"Yeah!" All the lords agreed.

Lord Glover stood, "Aye. We called your brother King, and then he rode south and lost his kingdom."

"Winter is here, Your Grace." Lady Lyanna Mormont said, standing up. "We need the King of the North in the North."

"Aye!" the lords agree, pounding their fists on the table.

Jon sighed, looking at everyone, "You all crowned me your King. I never wanted it. I never asked for it. But I accepted it because the North is my home. It's part of me, and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds. But the odds are against us." Jon took a deep breath. "None of you have seen the Army of the Dead. None of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone. We need allies, powerful allies. I know it's a risk. But I have to take it."

"Then send an emissary. Don't go yourself," Sansa pleaded.

"Alysanne is a Queen. Only a King can convince her to help us. It has to be me," Jon said.

Sansa shook her head, "You're abandoning your people! You're abandoning your home. "

"I'm leaving both in good hands," Jon assured.

"Whose?" Sansa asked.

"Yours," Jon answered.

This caught Sansa off guard.

"You are my sister. You're the only Stark in Winterfell. Until I return, the North is yours," Jon said.

All eyes were on Lady Sansa until she nodded.

Jon knew what he was doing. If the subtle notes in Tyrion letter are accurate in what he thought, Queen Alysanne isn't here for the North. The Dragon Queen addressed him as King Snow, and request to form an alliance and a truce. He has to take the risk in order to ask the Targaryen Sisters to help him fight against the Army of the Dead. Being able to mine the dragon glass and receive aid from the dragons. He was willing to help the Targaryens reclaim King's Landing if the negotiation goes well.

Although, his one regret is leaving his sister alone with Littlefinger.

He almost killed the man in the crypts when he caught him proclaiming his love for Sansa. After his threat, he made sure Lord Royce and Lady Brienne are by Sansa side at all times. He said goodbye to Sansa before riding South to White Harbor to meet the Dragon Sisters.

* * *

**To those who ask about Grey Worm not getting an erection, I did some research. A man who gets castrated (The removal of the testicles) is still able to get an erection. However, it will take a lot of effort. In Grey Worms case, since he doesn't have a lot of testosterone, he's on the small size. It's emasculation that can't get it up, because…well there's nothing there to get up.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	62. Chapter 62: The Lioness Envoy

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

* * *

**Chapter 62: The Lioness Envoy**

_Alysanne's POV_

"Safe travels," I told Yara on the docks as she and her fleet would soon be sailing off to Dorne with Tyene Sands. It has been two weeks since the Unsullied sailed off to Casterly Rock. Captain Aurane and Lord Paxter advised that the Greyjoys sail down the Narrow Sea and not on the coast. There have been reports of Euron's Iron Fleet have been sailing around the Blackwater Bay. We assume that Euron is trying to form a blockade to prevent my army from getting close to King's Landing.

"I will," Yara said, as we did the Greyjoy shake. "In a month or two, this will all be over."

"You will have the Iron Islands and I the Seven Kingdoms," I agreed. "Two Queens in the world of men."

Yara snorted with a smirk, before walking up to her ship. Theon gave a slight bow, which I nodded to him in return as a sign of respect. I stood there with my guards, watching the Greyjoy Fleet leaving the bay sailing south to Dorne. It won't be long now. In a few months, I will reclaim my home, and unite the Seven Kingdoms to prepare the Realm for the Long Night.

Varys came over, "A raven arrived from the North?"

"And?" I asked.

"The King in the North shall be sailing down in two weeks unless the winds are kind," Varys answered.

"Good," I said, as I started walking back to the Castle. "Tell me, Spider, what was Lord Eddard Stark like?"

I need a better knowledge of Jon Snow. All that I know of him is that he is the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. Once a member of the Night's Watch as Lord Commander. He then supported his sister Lady Sansa in fighting the Boltons, in the bloodiest battle in the North in the past four hundred years as the conflict has been declared the Battle of the Bastards. Now the Northmen acknowledged him as the King of the North. The people chose him, and I respect that, but I need to make sure he is a fair king. Lord Tyrion talked about the King in the North, along with his sister Lady Sansa, but children are raised by their parents in their upbringing.

"He was an honest and honorable man, Lord Eddard. Ofttimes I forget that. I have met so few of them in my life ... When I see what honesty and honor have won him." Varys replied.

"And yet he sires a bastard," I noted.

"And you married your brother," Varys countered.

I gave him a warning look not to go there.

"Apologies," Varys replied with a bow. "But why must you know of a dead man?"

"The dead hold many secrets," I said. "Secrets that the living wants to forget."

"You've grown wiser since your resurrection, my Queen," he noted.

"When death kisses you on the lips, you see the world differently," I murmured.

Varys nodded in agreement as we have fall into silence. As we continue to make our way back to the castle, Daenerys was coming down the stairs with discontent. Something was not right, as I made my way over to her.

"What's wrong, sister?" I asked.

"Queen Cersei has sent an envoy," Daenerys answered.

"An envoy?" I asked a bit confused.

Based off of Varys, Ser Barristan, and Lord Tyrion's reports on the Lioness, she doesn't seem to be one to negotiate. The daughter of Tywin Lannister, willing to relinquish her power over the Iron Throne, when she has no king's blood in her veins. Then again, the Lannisters used to be Kings three hundred years ago, but she doesn't have the blood of the dragon that defines the inheritance to the Iron Throne. Unless learning about my numbers and allies has made her reconsider on abdicating.

We made our way back to the castle and into the throne room where the envoy stood. It was a single man, dressed in dark robes as the hood cover his face while holding a gittern. Tyrion stood there, tensed as if he knows the envoy. Missandei started the introduction:

"You stand before Alysanne Targaryen, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Breaker of Chains and Dragoness of the West. May I ask who you are?"

The envoy remained quiet.

"What message do you bring from Cersei Lannister?" I asked.

The envoy adjusted the gittern before plucking the strings away playing a melody that seemed melancholy. Not long after, he started singing in a deep voice.

_And who are you, the proud lord said,_

_that I must bow so low?_

_Only a cat of a different coat,_

_that's all the truth I know._

_In a coat of gold or a coat of red,_

_a lion still has claws,_

_And mine are long and sharp, my lord,_

_as long and sharp as yours._

_And so he spoke, and so he spoke,_

_that lord of Castamere,_

_But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_with no one there to hear._

_Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_and not a soul to hear._

_The Rains of Castamere,_ I thought.

It was a warning. It has been known to be sung when disciplining unruly vassals; most lords send armies. Lord Tywin Lannister only had to send a singer. There's no faster way to dull a vassal's ambition or any festive occasion than hearing 'The Rains of Castamere.' Now his daughter continues this practice. The only problem was, I am not a vassal. I am Queen Alysanne Targaryen, and I am here to reclaim my home. To take back my birthright and prepare the people for the Long Night.

All eyes were on me, questioning my reaction. For the envoy dare to sing that song is considered to be an insult. Daenerys even scowled, though kept her composure since the message was pointed at me. Keeping a neutral face, I walked over to the envoy though kept a safe distance in case a weapon was missed. The man, shroud in black, mainly stood there caressing his gittern. A replica of the Stranger. Only he was a mere mortal delivering a message. It was clear Cersei Lannister will not abdicate her power. And since she was not an anointed queen by the Seven or the old religion, she holds no spiritual connection to the Realm, and she quickly declared war.

So, facing the envoy, I stared where his eyes would be. "Anything else?"

The envoy shook his head.

"You accepted death, knowing that coming here would be a suicide mission," I noted.

The envoy said nothing.

"I will let you leave with your life and send a message Queen Cersei," I said, staring intensely into his dark eyes. "Tell her that she is not going against a red lion, but a red dragon. Tell her, do not test my power, and do not tempt my fury. Relinquish her claim over the Iron Throne or her House will weep o'er her hall, and not a soul to hear."

The envoy's eyes widen slightly.

With nothing else to say, I excused myself wanting some privacy. I made my way to Aegon's Garden. Luckily, Cersei did not burn the garden down as she did with the limited crops. The garden was different from all the gardens I've encountered in Essos. Just like the song the envoy said, there was a melancholy sense to it. Within grows tall dark trees, wild roses, towering thorny hedges, and cranberries about. The scent of piney engulfed the air, masking all the other fragrances. Every now and there would be statues of dragons, statues of the Targaryens, and statues of the Valyrian gods. The lack of care, allowed moss and vines to cover the statues, strangling away what remains of the dragon lords.

Ser Barristan accompanies on the walk. A neutral silence, since there was nothing much to talk about. Morning training went as expected, then the departure from the Greyjoys. In a few more months, the Lannisters will be overthrown, and House Targaryen will be restored. The thought somewhat bothered me. I was questioning myself if I truly wanted to be Queen and comparing it to the dream the Warlocks made. I was happy in the illusion, a businesswoman with a son and husband. Now I am a conqueror, destined to help Westeros against the Long Night and through the journey experience so much suffering. And what is my reward in all this? The Iron Throne. After much thinking is it worth it? Sentimental value, yes. However, power is not as tempting as it used to be.

Ever since being resurrected, ruling the Seven Kingdoms doesn't hold an appeal. I want to get it done with and move on. Once the Great War is done, what's the point? The past several years has been war. A war of survival. All my life, I thought I would never return to Westeros again. Even when Viserys worked on his schemes with host families and sellswords, I expected less. Viserys made things worse. Now, all that has happened, the suffering and death …what's the point? I spent years focusing on a war that no one will believe is going to happen. Another Doom, only it was ice and death.

Unfortunately, a negative reputation is placed on House Targaryen. It all began with Maegor and continued over the years until it ended with King Aerys the Second and Rhaegar Targaryen. I wanted to restore House Targaryen's name, redeem my House before it goes into extinction. Let history remember that not all Targaryens are that bad. So many thoughts ponder me about the future. All I ever wanted; I can never have. Not in this life at least.

And the Warlocks taunted me of it.

I sighed, pinching the brim of my nose. When I opened my eyes, I saw Lady Olenna sitting on a stone bench reading a letter. Curious in what it was, I walked over to the Queen of Thornes. Lady Olenna brought up a good point, that I need to not rely on my Small Council. I've spent years relying on Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Varys, and Tyrion. Already, I'm questioning Tyrion's strategy plan on collecting Casterly Rock. Ser Barristan had to interfere from the straightforward method of taking the Rock. Making sure not all our forces go straight to Casterly Rock but in different parts of the West Coast. So, the Lannisport will be under siege at the same time as Casterly Rock. Ser Barristan knows Ser Jaime; he'd taught and trained the young knight. Expect the unexpected, and House Lannister is about Order, they will expect a direct assault on King's Landing, and a possible on the Rock.

"Lady Olenna," I greeted.

The Queen of Thornes looked up, "Your Grace."

"How are you?" I asked.

"Still living," Lady Olenna answered. "Out of all the gardens in Westeros, this is the most deviant."

"Deviant?" I asked.

"Dark, sad at the same time. Well, at least it's better than the gardens in King's Landing." She answered. "Tempted to throw myself off a cliff if I had to do another leisure stroll."

I tried not to snort, then changed the subject, "How are your Grandsons?"

"My oldest grandson, Willas, has done what you recommended and has evacuated Highgarden and the villages nearby. Our fortune is being transferred to Oldtown as we speak. My second, Garlan, is getting our forces together, calling the banners, expect one House is not accounted for."

"And which House is that?"

"House Tarly. Apparently, the most loyal House in the Reach has turncoat."

"Lord Randyll Tarly serving House Lannister?" Ser Barristan asked surprised.

I looked at my Queensguard, "What do you know of Lord Tarly?"

"He is the Reaches best War General. The only man to defeat Robert Baratheon in single combat, at the Battle of Ashford, and cut down Lord Cafferen." Ser Barristan informed. "The Tarly's were loyal to the Targaryens."

"And to House Tyrell," Lady Olenna added. "A man who praises of his honor, and yet dishonors himself."

"We will need to be careful," Ser Barristan noted.

I nodded then sighed, "Terrific."

"Terrific, once this war is over, my grandson is getting married," Lady Olenna announced.

"Congratulations," I said, being respectful. "May I have asked who?"

"Some noble girl name Elain. I can't remember what House, only that it has some deer on it." Lady Olenna replied. "All I could say is finally. My oaf of a son prolonged Willas from being married hoping he could match him with a Great House or a Gardener descendant."

"I'm sure Lady Elain will make him happy," I said.

"Well, she's smart, thank the Seven. Not many give her credit," Lady Olenna agreed.

"No one gives women enough credit," I said.

Lady Olenna barked up a laugh, "You and Margaery would've gotten along."

"We could have if the rebellion hasn't accorded," I said. "But we cannot focus on the what if's?"

Although, remembering Rhaegar mentioning of arranging a match between Quentyn Martell, Willas Tyrell, and Garlan Tyrell. Men who were around my age at the time. The Tyrells were loyal to the Targaryens. Have been since King Aegon awarded the Reach to them, since the extinction of House Gardener. So, the chances of a noble lady assigned as my ladies in waiting are possible. In the end, Margaery Tyrell is dead, and I am not. A possible future of peace under Rhaegar is gone after a mistake.

"And you will keep your word if the Lannisters does siege Highgarden?" Lady Olenna asked.

"I promised, if the Lannisters do siege Highgarden, I will get it back to your family," I promised. "I don't want what happened in King's Landing long ago happen again."

No more lives be taken in brutality. No more men, women, and children, being slaughtered. Women raped. Houses and homes destroyed. And most importantly, another House falling into extinction. Too many lives have been destroyed by House Lannister. House Reyne challenged the Lannisters and had it coming. But House's Targaryen, the Starks, the Tullys, the Baratheons were pawns who challenged their authority based on the principles of morals. House Tyrell are opportunist, other than marrying in. I do not know why Cersei Lannisters holds a vendetta against Margaery and the others. But a woman who has committed an atrocity by destroying the Sept of Baelor to avoid her trial, killing thousands of innocent people needs to be taken down.

* * *

**Hey Guys,**

**Sorry for the long wait, I am on vacation seeing my family. Updates will be different since I am doing some volunteer work and a part-time job this summer. Along with…well, you know how the majority feels about season seven and season eight, and it's messed up continuity.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	63. Chapter 63: The King in the North

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 63: The King in the North**

_Alysanne's POV_

I looked over the balcony to see a lone ship sailing into the harbor. A basic ship, the sails were grey and the prow a single spike. Unable to detect if it was a merchant ship or a voyage ship. It wasn't until this morning did a raven from the ship flew over indicating it was King Snow and his crew requesting permission to come ashore.

The past two weeks, Daenerys tried to convince me that we need to secure the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of the seven kingdoms. However, I made it clear that the North fought hard for their independence the past four maybe five years since the Lannisters killed Lord Eddard Stark. They've chosen their monarchy. All I can do is make sure that this Jon Snow is a suitable leader for the North, not another Cleon the Butcher. Let alone, compensate House Stark for the crimes Rhaegar and Father made to their House. By taking Lyanna Stark, the murder of Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon Stark, and demanding for Eddard Stark's head. A father and two sons trying to protect Lyanna by requesting for her return. Not war. And Father declared it so.

In time, one day, through our descendants, the North will return to Realm. But now, after decades of mistreatment, the separation was needed. Also, I need to forge this alliance to prepare Westeros for the Long Night. To prepare the people against the Army of the Dead. Varys and Tyrion hardly understand, Ser Barristan tries to grasp where I'm leading, and…only Jorah and Daenerys believe in me in what I saw in the House of the Undying. If not, what the spirits in the Veil foretold. Daenys the Dreamer had a vision of two dooms. One by fire and one by ice. The Doom of Valyria consumed the dragon empire in flames. Now the Doom of Ice, the Second Long Night shall return in winter and death. Already the air was cold, the winds were blowing with a chill from the Crownlands. No doubt the snow has fallen in North.

"Your Grace, how will you address King Snow?" Ser Barristan asked.

"I will address him as a king," I answered. "Although I want to see how stubborn a Northman is. Test him."

"You're going to ask him to bend the knee," Ser Barristan assumed shaking his head with a twitch of his lip.

"I will," I confirmed. "But the North is the North while the South is the South. Two nations need to unite against a common enemy."

"The moment you take back your home, the people will stand beside you," Ser Barristan said. "Dorne and the Reach stand before you. The Iron Islands support you along with your Valyrian kin."

"The question being, will the unknown or the Lioness strike first," I sighed.

Visenya reminded me countless times that the unknown can never be predicted. She foretold the Army of the Dead will march south from the Wall while I am still in Westeros. Now the question is when? Do I have years, months, or weeks before the inevitable arrives? All that I know is that the Night King, White Walkers, and the Wights are awake. The Wall is the barrier between us from them, but not all walls can stand forever.

.**o0o**.

_Dragonstone_

The King in the North saw Dragonstone for the first time in his life. Never has he treaded or sailed south. The farthest to the south he'd ever traveled was near the neck of Westeros. But now, he travels to the Crownlands, of one of the islands inhabited by the Valyrians descendants. Dragonstone, the only volcanic island that the Targaryens took hold for five hundred years. The architecture was like nothing the White Wolf has ever seen. A fortress at the same time mystical in traits of what the books described of the ancient empire of Valyria. Since sailing into the harbor, he noticed there were no signs of the dragons. The last couple of days, the men were nervous about the rumors of three dragons. Dragons the North needed against the Army of the Dead. So, with Ser Davos and five other Northmen, they disembarked the ship and rowed to shore.

When he arrived in Dragonstone, Jon saw the welcoming party, seeing the Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers. He was cautious, having heard stories about the Dothraki and statement of the Unsullied. Along the welcoming party stood a familiar face, recognizing Tyrion Lannister, dressed in black, a scruffy beard, and a large scar across his face. Next to him was a woman, one not from around here with dark skin and wild dark hair.

"The Bastard of Winterfell," Tyrion greeted.

"The Dwarf of Casterly Rock," Jon replied back.

They stared at each other until both gave a smirk. Stepping forward, they shook hands after their old conversations towards the Wall.

"I believe we last saw each other atop the Wall," Tyrion said.

"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right," Jon jest. "Picked up some scars along the road."

"It's been a long road, but we're both still here," Tyrion agreed. Then addressed the Stark's company, "I'm Tyrion Lannister."

"Davos Seaworth," the advisor greeted, shaking the dwarf's hand.

"Ah, the Onion Knight," Tyrion noted. "We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. "

"Unluckily for me," Ser Davos said.

Tyrion took a deep breath, "Missandei is the Queen's most trusted advisor. "

She nodded, "Welcome to Dragonstone. Our Queen knows it is a long journey. She appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons."

Jon looked at Ser Davos hesitant about it. The Onion knight merely nodded. His men felt cautious as well, especially when the Dothraki walking closer to them. Not having much of a choice and outnumbered he nodded, "Of course."

As he and his men handed over their weapons. Jon was hesitant when handing over Longclaw. The only gift he had from Jeor Mormont. Let alone one of the few Valyrian Steel swords left in Westeros. He gave Qhono a warning look not to lose it. The tension grew when the Dothraki took their boat away.

"Please, this way," Missandei insisted.

Having no choice, they followed Missandei and Tyrion to the castle.

Ser Davos walked over to Missandei, "Where are you from? I can't place the accent."

"I was born on the Island of Naath," Missandei answered.

"Ah. I hear it's beautiful down there. Palm trees and butterflies. Haven't been, myself." Ser Davos complimented.

Missandei merely smiled as she walked ahead. Jon caught up to the Onion knight who leaned close to his King.

"This place has changed," Davos murmured.

Jon didn't know if he should take that comment as a bad thing.

On the journey up, they reached the steps. Tyrion asked Jon to walk beside him as they climbed up. At first, there was silence, yet Tyrion has many questions he wanted to ask Jon. Primarily about his ex-wife. Varys had informed him that his marriage to Sansa Stark has been annulled since the marriage was not consummated. If not Littlefinger paying the High Septon extra, and a discount in his brothels. And yet, Tyrion wanted to be sure Lady Sansa was in good hands.

"And Sansa? I hear she's alive and well?" Tyrion asked.

"She is," Jon answered.

"Does she miss me terribly?" Tyrion sarcastically asked.

Jon gave him a look.

Tyrion realized his mistake and explained himself, "A sham marriage. And unconsummated."

Jon felt uncomfortable about this, "I didn't ask."

"Well, it was. Wasn't. Anyway… she's much smarter than she lets on."

"She's starting to let on."

"Good. At some point, I want to hear how a Night's Watch recruit became King in the North?" Tyrion said.

"As long as you tell me how a Lannister became Hand to Alysanne Targaryen," Jon countered.

"A long and bloody tale," Tyrion said. "To be honest, I was drunk for most of it."

"My bannermen think I'm a fool for coming here," Jon sighed, eyes looking about for any threat.

"Of course, they do," Tyrion agreed. "If I were your Hand, I would have advised against it. A general rule of thumb – Stark men don't fare well when they travel south."

"True…" Jon said. "but I'm not a Stark."

There was a loud screeching. When suddenly, a dragon of black and red came swooping down. The Northmen hunched down while the Targaryen soldiers were unfazed. Jon looked up bewildered and amazed in seeing a dragon. He thought the dragon thing was a hoax to scare off the Westerosi. Now Jon could see three dragons flying around the castle. The massive one being black with red undertones, followed by a golden bronze dragon that held the same size as the green one. In over a hundred-fifty year, the Seven Kingdoms thought the dragons were extinct. The King in the North couldn't believe his eyes. They were massive beasts.

Ser Davos glanced over his shoulder, seeing Missandei standing there with a smile. The Naathi finding it amusing to see Jon and Ser Davos was shaken by these marvelous creatures. She has been there for the dragons since they were toddlers.

Tyrion came over, offering a hand to Jon.

"I'd say you get used to them…" Tyrion said, helping Jon up. "But you never really do. Come, their riders are waiting for you."

_What the hell did I get myself into_? Jon thought, as he turns to look at Davos who had the same thought.

Meanwhile up on the cliffs gazing was Melisandre who observed the Northern party walking through the winding staircase towards the castle. She saw it in the flames when seeing Jon Snow being Azor Ahai. She also learned from a recent letter that there was another champion as Azor Ahai found in Essos in Alysanne Targaryen. Conflicting for their can only be one. Until she received in a dream from a shadow-binder who hides her face that the prophecy was the 'Prince and Princess' who was promised.

Along with the warning that prophecies can be misguided after centuries being retold to suit the listener. Still, Melisandre was disappointed in herself. She read the flames, she heard what her Lord of Light has told her…and she was wrong. Thousands of people are dead, a family had gone extinct, and…she killed an innocent girl. The Red Priestess tried to convince herself that Stannis killed his daughter, Stannis had the choice…in the end, the guilt lingers when Ser Davos presented the scorched Stag figurine.

"I wondered why you weren't there to meet our guests," Varys murmured, standing behind the Red Priestess who glanced at him. "You begged us to summon the King in the North. Don't you want to see him again?"

"I've done my part," Melisandre assured. "I've brought ice and fire together."

"Strange. You spoke so highly of Jon Snow, but when he arrives, you hide on a cliff. I didn't take you for a bashful girl," Varys murmured.

"My time whispering in ears of Kings has come to an end," Melisandre said.

"Oh, I doubt that," Varys challenged. "Give us common folk one taste of power, we're like the lion who tasted man. Nothing is ever so sweet again."

Melisandre smiled, "Neither of us is common folk anymore."

Varys nodded in agreement.

"I did not part on good terms with the King in the North or his advisor." She confessed.

"Because you sacrificed Sheerin Baratheon." He confirmed. "Burning her alive for your god."

"And terrible mistakes," she added sadly. "I would only be a distraction if I stayed."

"So, where will you go?" he asked.

"Volantis," she answered. "The high priestess Kinvara has summoned me."

"Good. If you don't me saying, I don't think you should return to Westeros. I'm not sure you'd be safe here."

The Red Woman only smiled, "Oh, I will return dear Spider. One last time."

"My Lady—"

"I have to die in this strange country. Just like you."

This caught Varys off guard as he stared into her blue eyes. He wonders what she meant by that. Was he supposed to die a natural death and be buried in these lands? Will he be executed, murdered, slain, so many possible deaths? So far, he has faith in his Queen. She may seem different since her resurrection, but…her objective remains the same. The Realm, the people come first before power. Along with the deal, if Varys notices Alysanne is failing the people, he shall tell her.

Before Varys could ask what Melisandre meant, the Red Woman left for her journey to Volantis.

Back to the welcoming party who continue onward to the castle. It wasn't long when the party entered the throne room. Sitting on the Stone throne was Alysanne Targaryen. Jon studies her, noticing her hair was pale, a pale blonde, almost silver that was pulled back by two side braids on each side and reached to her shoulder. She held a statuesque beauty while her eyes he could not describe as blue and purple mixed into one. She wore black leather armor, with a three-headed dragon brooch on her left shoulder securing a red sash. Next to her was another woman who held resemblance, Daenerys Targaryen. She stood beside her sister, poised. She has violet eyes, pale skin, and long, pale silver-gold hair pulled into countless braids. She was beautiful, yet there was something different. Wearing an outfit similar to Alysanne's, though it wasn't battle ready. The Dragon sisters stared at Jon and the Queen's eyes widen.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

The doors opened to the Stone Room. Tyrion and Missandei brought King Snow along with his advisor. The moment I looked at the King in the North, my eyes widen for what I saw could not be possible. The man before me was the one I saw in my dream back in Meereen. The third rider on Rhaegal, the man whose face resembled Rhaegar. He stood at the floor, cautious and yet having a fresh memory of my eldest brother in the Veil, I could see Rhaegar standing before me as if he died his hair and grew a beard. However, Rhaegar was dead, and the man who stood before me also had dark eyes.

_There are three dragons left in the world, the last three Targaryens,_ were Rhaegar's final words.

This has to be a coincidence, that I am over thinking of the possibility that Jon Snow could possibly be Rhaegar's son. It must be a coincidence that Jon Snow physical traits resemble my deceased brother. The third dragon is supposed to be Maester Aemon Targaryen. No one else.

"You stand in the presence of Alysanne of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Dragoness of the West, the Breaker of Chains. And Leader of the Unsullied." Missandei introduced.

Formality was something they did not use too often. King Snow glanced at his advisor, wondering what he should do.

"This is Jon Snow," a middle-aged man with a southern accent I do not recognize announced. "He's King in the North."

There was an awkward silence.

"Thank you for traveling so far, Your Grace," I greeted. "I hope the seas weren't too rough."

"The winds were kind, Your Grace," King Snow replied.

I then stared at King Snow's advisor, "Forgive me— and you are?"

"You Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth," Tyrion informed.

"Forgive me, Ser Davos," Daenerys spoke up. "I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn I read the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"

I gave Daenerys a pretend warning look. As much as Daenerys believes that we should rule over the Seven Kingdoms, she knows we are testing our guest. To see if he is worthy of being a ruler for the most extensive Kingdom in Westeros. Tyrion and Ser Barristan are aware of this test. Although Tyrion states good faith in the young King, a short visit to the Wall isn't enough to know a person's character. I invited King Jon Snow to forge an alliance and speak of truce. Not have him come here to intimidate him into bending the knee.

"I wasn't there, Your Grace." Ser Davos said.

"No, of course not," Daenerys grinned. "But still, an oath is an oath. And perpetuity means – what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?"

"Forever," Tyrion answered.

"Forever," Daenerys repeated. "So, I assume, my lord …you're here to bend the knee."

"I am not," King Snow declared.

"Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You travel all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?" I murmured. This was my test.

"Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive," he added. "He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms –"

"My father…was an evil man." I interrupted, knowing I need to settle this predicament and earn his trust. "On behalf of House Targaryen…I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father."

Based on King Snow's expression of doubt, he doesn't believe it.

"Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known," I said. "Although, I will not lie, there hasn't been true peace and prosperity in the last three centuries. But there was an agreement with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. Daenerys and I are the last Targaryens, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee, and I will name you Warden of the North. Together, we will save this country from those who would destroy it."

King Snow paused, contemplating my words. After a moment, he looked me in the eye, "You're right, you're not guilty of your father's crimes. And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows."

"Then, why are you here?" Daenerys asked.

"Because I need your help, and you need mine," He said.

I tilted my head, "Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?"

"I did." He answered.

"And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?" Daenerys asked

"They're hard to miss." He somewhat sarcastically replied.

"But still, we need your help?" I asked.

"Not to defeat Cersei," Ser Davos answered. "You could storm King's Landing tomorrow, and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it, and we didn't have dragons."

"Almost," Tyrion snipped.

"But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?" King Snow noted. "The only reason I can see is that you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war, but you won't do it, which means, at the very least, you're better than Cersei."

I arched a brow, "Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help."

"Because right now, you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair." King Snow explained.

"You told us you liked this man," Daenerys told Tyrion.

"I do," Tyrion assured.

"In the time since he's met us, he's refused to call Alysanne Queen, he refused to bow, and now he's calling her a child," Daenerys said, almost sounding like whining.

"I believe he's calling all of us children," Tyrion said. "Figure of speech."

Jon Snow was getting irritated, "Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter's over if we don't defeat the enemy to the north."

"As far as I can see, _'you'_ are the enemy to the north," I countered, seeing his reaction.

"I'm not your enemy," King Snow defended. "The _dead_ are the enemy."

The test falters as I stared at him in shock wide eye. Did he just say the dead are the enemy? Remembering Visenya riddle, as she said before "_A lioness shall challenge you, and the white wolf shall support you. Listen to the white wolf, for he has seen what is to come."_

"Say that again?" I asked.

"The Army of the Dead is on the march," He repeated.

"The Army of the Dead?" Tyrion asked.

Tyrion doesn't understand the Army of the Dead. He only knows that I am preparing for the Long Night of a battle for survival. All around Ser Barristan and Daenerys tried to hide their surprise. For they believe in my vision from the House of the Undying. The Night King and his Army of the dead. So, to hear King Jon Snow making that declaration, brought tension in the throne room. All eyes on the King in the North.

"You don't know me well, my lord, but do you think I'm a liar or a madman?" King Snow asked.

"No, I don't think you're either of those things," Tyrion answered.

"The Army of the Dead is real. The white walkers are real. The Night King is real. I've seen them. If they get past the Wall and we're squabbling amongst over selves…" he said stepping forward only the Dothraki drew their weapons. He stopped stepping back. "We're finished."

Silence engrossed the room as all eyes were on me.

"I was born at Westeros. Not that I can remember it." I said, standing up walking over to him. "We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder children. Not that it matters now, of course. Daenerys and I spent our lives in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill us, I don't remember all their names. My sister has been sold like a broodmare, and I poisoned and died till resurrected. We've been chained and betrayed, raped, and defiled. Do you know what kept us standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not only in the gods, not only in myths and legends. But in us. In the Dragon Sisters. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until Daenerys resurrected them. The Unsullied had a choice and they fight alongside me. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for Daenerys." I was standing in front of him, staring into his dark brown eyes. "So, look me in the eye and tell me what you are proclaiming is true?"

Jon Snow stared into my indigo eyes. Behind those brown eyes was the face of Rhaegar. The face of the rider who shouted my name as I fell to my death in the dream. His voice was similar to that of the member of the Nights Watch in my vision who told me to run. If he is the White Wolf, then what I have been dreading has come sooner rather than later.

"You'll be ruling over a graveyard if we don't defeat the Night King," King Snow murmured.

He did not flinch, or facial reaction that indicated a lie. He kept his dark eyes on me, and voice stern. In my years of learning the art of conversation, it was clear he was telling the truth. I felt my blood turn cold while keeping a neutral expression. Tossing the test aside, I was about to ask him questions when Tyrion came forward.

"The war against my sister has already begun," Tyrion said. "You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting whatever you saw beyond the Wall."

Ser Davos stepped forward. "You don't believe him. I understand that. It sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought the Dragon Sisters back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros? He is the first to make allies of wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Lord Protector of the Realm. Not because of his birthright. He has no birthright. He's a damn bastard. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him. All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own—"

King Snow gave his advisor a glance to stop his spiel.

I stared at Tyrion, wondering what he meant. Tyrion didn't know, which I wish Varys were here to explain what has happened I the North. What did Ser Davos meant by taking a knife in the heart? King Snow turned his attention back to me, and I continue to stare into his eyes. Though dark, there was something familiar about them. As if they've lost a piece of their soul.

"If we don't put aside our enmities and band together, we will die," Ser Davos finished. "And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne."

"If it doesn't matter, then you might as well kneel," Tyrion insisted. "Swear your allegiance to Queen Alysanne, help her defeat my sister, and together, our armies will protect the North."

"There's no time for that!" King Snow snapped. "There's no time for any of this! While we stand here, debating –"

"It takes no time to bend the knee," Tyrion reasoned. "Pledge your sword to her cause."

"And why would I do that?" Jon demanded, and stared at me. "I mean no offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name, and my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so as well as I can."

"That's fair," I murmured. "And I must say, you passed my test. I can see you care for your people as I do for the Realm."

This confused King Snow and Ser Davos. Before they could ask what I meant, footsteps could be heard as Lord Varys entered. As he rushed over and whispered into my ear.

"Your Grace, please dismiss your guests. I have grave news."

I scowled, nodding to Varys. Regaining my composure, I stared at King Snow and his advisor. "You must forgive my manners. You'll both be tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms."

I glanced at Daenerys, who nodded, speaking to Kovarro in Dothraki. Addressing them to escort our guest to their chambers and providing them a hot bath and food. Kovarro nodded, as he along with Aggo and Qhono came over gesturing Jon Snow and Ser Davos to move. I made my way to the Stone Throne.

"Am I your prisoner?" King Snow challenged.

I stopped facing him, "No, you are my guest, King Snow."

The King in the North and Ser Davos Seaworth was escorted out of the Throne room. Once we had the room in private, I stared at the Spider wondering what grave news he brings that had to interrupt a royal meeting. Not long after Prince Quentyn, Lady Olenna, Lord Paxter, and Captain Aurane.

"Our Ironborn and Dornish allies were attacked on route to Dorne," Varys reported.

"And?" I asked.

"Two or three ships escaped, the rest, sunk or captured. The Greyjoys and Tyene Sand, dead or captured." Varys reported.

"All of them?" Daenerys asked.

Varys could not answer.

"Did they sail on the Leviathan trail?" Lord Paxter asked.

"They did not," Varys answered.

Lord Paxter and Captain Aurane scowled. They gave heaved instructions for the Greyjoy fleet and my own to sail on the Leviathan trail. Yes, it takes a few days longer than anticipated to reach Dorne, but they had the ships that could maintain the riptide at a fast pace the same as sailing near the coast. I mentally scowled, for I was in charge of this invasion, and Yara Greyjoy disobeyed a direct order. Now it cost me a hundred ships and three allies.

"At least Prince Quentyn is here with us," Lady Olenna tried to find the bright side.

Agreed, Prince Quentyn was here with us. If Euron Greyjoy had captured the Dornish Prince, then House Martell would be forced to change sides to save their kin. Even though House Martell doesn't follow the traditions of a patriarchal society, and Princess Arianne inherits Sunspear, Prince Quentyn keeps the bloodline and family name onward.

"Prince Quentyn, send a raven to your father, informed him of the situation and that there is a delay on the siege," I ordered calmly.

"At once, Your Grace," Prince Quentyn said with a bow and left.

I turned to Ser Barristan, Lord Paxter, and Captain Aurane, "We need to come up with a new battle strategy. The Unsullied should be halfway there by now. See if we can make the siege of Lannisport and Casterly Rock a distraction to separate the Crowns armies from King's Landing."

"Of course," Lord Paxter said.

"Your Grace, may I have a word with you?" Ser Barristan asked.

I nodded, dismissing the War Council. Ser Barristan and I took our privacy in the Painted Room. I walked over to the Painted Table, examine the previous plan before removing the Greyjoy totem.

"Is this considered a delay, or are we screwed?" I asked.

"A delay," Ser Barristan answered. "We have more ships, but it may be wise to have the Dornish march North."

"And how long does it take to march North from Dorne?" I asked.

"By horse two weeks," Ser Barristan answered picking up the Martell Totem from Sunspear and picked it up. "Have them stop at Harvest Hall, before marching onward to the Reach where they are protected and join the vassal houses armies."

"That is one possibility," I sighed, seeing where he is coming from. "I was hoping to save the Dornish energy by ship."

"The Dornish have much endurance, I assure you." Ser Barristan promised. "But that is not why I asked for your time."

I sat down and stared at him to continue.

"Your Grace, you told me before in Dragon's Bay of what you saw in the House of the Undying. The visions of an army of the dead and the Long Night. Now Jon Snow tells you this…"

"You think this is madness?"

"No. After what I have seen, the possibility of the dead rising to take over is possible. Difficult to grasp, but possible."

"And now there are two wars," I sighed, picking up the dragon figurine. "But which should I focus on?"

"When you have the time, talk to King Snow, get as much information as possible to know the status of the greater threat. The more men we have, the greater our chances."

I nodded, appreciating that he believes in me. Then again, he has witnessed dragons, Warlocks, magic, and seeing me resurrected from the dead. Practicability vanished when he sailed off to Essos. So, to believe in my visions of a greater threat is a blessing. Most would think I have gone mad. Only the Small Council knows the truth. Although it was hard in making these decisions. As much as Tyrion, Ser Barristan, Varys, and Daenerys have given me on their counsel. I feel like I need one more. Only that individual is somewhere in the world looking for a cure or is probably dead. Jorah was my first advisor, and the past year without his counsel was a struggle.

Then I thought about King Snow, how Jon resembled my brother Rhaegar as if he decided to dye his hair and grow a beard. The hair and eyes were different, along with a slight roundness around the cheekbones, but I could still see Rhaegar.

"Ser Barristan, when you saw King Snow…did he remind you of anyone?" I asked.

The Older Knight paused, trying to remember if Jon Snow reminded him of someone. He served alongside my oldest brought. Taught him how to fight and shielded him. He was practically Rhaegar's Sworn Shield. Let alone, he kept mentioning I resembled my brother as if I were his twin in the female form if that were possible.

"I can see some resemblance in Ned Stark, but I believe the man inherited more of his mother," Barristan answered.

"And do you know who his mother is, by any chance?"

"There were many assumptions in who Ned Stark slept with to sire a bastard. A common theory was Ashara Dayne since the two were intended before Robert's Rebellion. Although, it's also been said that it was a Wet Nurse name Wylla."

I tried to recall House Dayne's feature. There was a rumor that House Dayne was Valyrian descendants, due to their violet eyes. Yet their House has been in Westeros before the Doom. Let alone their dark hair.

"May I ask why you are curious in Jon Snow's parentage?" Ser Barristan asked.

I suppressed myself from biting my lip. Usually, that habit would give me away on keeping secrets. Taking a deep breath, I stared at the dragon totem.

"I want to make sure the North is in good hands," I lied.

"Jon Snow was raised by Lord Eddard Stark, I assure you, the North is in good hands." Ser Barristan said. "He may be a bastard, but how he addressed the Northerners shows much determination for his people safety."

"You weren't kidding, the Northerners are stubborn," I tried to jest.

Ser Barristan snorted with a smile.

Still, as I over think I can't stop the theory dancing in my head. Jon Snow holds much resemblance to Rhaegar. My brother's final words to me in the Veil that there were three dragons left, and three Targaryens remaining. What are the chances that Rhaegar sired a son out of wedlock? If he did, then the child would still be a bastard since Rhaegar was still married to Elia. Then I thought about Elia and wonder how she felt if she learned of this infidelity leading to a product of betrayal. Either way, I was still the rightful heir to rule…

I need to stop overthinking things.

But as I stared at the dragon totem and thought about Rhaegar, the only thing I could think is…

Damn you, Rhaegar!

* * *

**Hello my lovely readers. Hope you all are having a lovely summer!**

**You all have been waiting for this chapter. And thus, I present it to you.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	64. Chapter 64: Forgotten within the Smoke

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 64: Forgotten within the Smoke**

_Alysanne's POV_

"Something is on your mind," Visenya murmured as she looked over the Painted Table of the current plans.

I ignored her comment removing the Greyjoy totems and tried to figure out a plan. I'm crossed between reclaiming the Seven Kingdoms or focus on the Army of the Dead. North and South, so which direction should I go? I have four allies who want me to take the Iron Throne now. Meanwhile, I have one who is saying the Dead are marching south. To make things worse, the King in the North holds a strong resemblance to Rhaegar.

"Did you know?" I asked.

"Did I know what?" Visenya replied.

I clenched my fist taking a deep breath, "You mentored Rhaegar?"

"That is correct," she confirmed.

"And you know of every Targaryen?" I asked.

"Possibly," she said.

"Possibly?"

"I can't detect seeds."

"But the Targaryens who come to you are not always purebred."

"Does this have something to do with Jon Snow?"

I glared at her, "He looks like Rhaegar."

"And so does Captain Aurane Waters."

"Just tell me, is he a Targaryen or not? Did Rhaegar sire a bastard?"

Visenya came over, taking the Greyjoy totem out of my hand. "He is the White Wolf, and you are the Dragoness of the West. You made the decision to give the North its independence. Why does it matter?"

"Rhaegar told me there are three Targaryens left in the world," I growled. "Daenerys and I are two of the three. So, who is the third? Because I know it is Aemon unless…."

Visenya stopped the conversation for Vhagar swooped near the window thrusting her head inside. The first dragon Queen walked over, petting his snout. Vhagar growled almost as if she was talking and Visenya nodded. This was something I've noticed lately. None of the books talked about Dragonriders and dragons communicating the same language. I assumed this dimension allowed Visenya and Vhagar to communicate. As both females are the only ones left in this realm.

"She spotted something you must find in Dragonmont," Visenya said.

"In the volcano?" I asked.

"Yes, due to your immunity, it should be easy for you," she said.

My concern was the smoke. When Rhaegal breathed fired on me, I spent weeks, maybe months, recovering from the smoke damage in my lungs. Coughing my head off, forcing to drink a lot of herbal teas to suppress the fits when dealing the supplicants and meetings.

"This is important," Visenya said.

"And what is that, if I'm risking my life in an active volcano?" I asked.

"Don't worry, the next eruption won't happen for several hundred years," she assured.

"Terrific," I muttered. "Something else I should warn my descendants about."

"As long as no one is on the Island when it happens everything should be fine," she said.

"You're changing the subject," I accused. Realizing what she was doing and not answering the question.

Visenya sighed, "I am a spirit, and I can't give you the answers to the current events."

"You foretold the future in Dragonstone," I challenged.

"Things happen for a reason, and I am not at liberty tell you if your theory is true or not. You need to find evidence and learn," she said. "But the question has come if the Seven Kingdoms are important by ruling in a chair or on Viserion's back fighting for it."

I sighed, "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," she said.

I rolled my eyes.

"Go to Dragonmont," she murmured and tapped me on the forehead.

My eyes fluttered, waking up in my bedchambers back in the real world. I groaned, hating that. She always does that to end a discussion that she doesn't want to give the answer to. Makes me question if Rhaegar did sire Jon Snow. But she also did point out, it could be a coincidence since Captain Aurane Water also looked like my brothers; only his face was narrow. Unable to go back to sleep, seeing it was still too early for Missandei, I got dressed in my leather armor and brushed my hair into a simple ponytail. Once dressed, I left the castle going outside towards the dragons.

Viserion sensed my presence as he stirred from his slumber and looked up at me.

"I need your help," I murmured.

Viserion nodded, as he knelt down so I could climb on his back. Although he has a saddle custom made for him, this was not a long-term journey. So, climbing onto his back, I whispered the spell that links our mind and flew towards Dragonmont. The golden dragon gave a shudder, not from chills but of pleasure as the cold air became warm from the volcano. He landed on the edge climbing upwards until coming towards the crater. The volcano has been dormant for many centuries, yet the fog made the illusion of smoke. My thoughts dawdle to the most powerful flames of liquid fire lingers beneath the earth. A fire that can melt anything in its wakes, and the only thing that can stop it is saltwater with a consequence.

What could have Vhagar saw in limbo that she wanted me to find? I tried getting off Viserion, except he refused, cautious for my safety. Even though the Dragonmont has been asleep for centuries, there is chance lava is still exposed. Viserion climbed into the crater, clinging to the stone on edge as the morning light of grave gave us a view. So, what could be lost in here? I whispered a dragon spell so Viserion could breathe a small fire to illuminate the light. A soft glow filled the crater, and that is when I saw it. Curled around the solid lava rock was a skeleton of a dragon. It was gigantic, probably more massive than Balerion. The bones were the shade of coal, almost masking with the lava rock.

I recall most of the whereabouts of the dragon's skulls were kept. Only a handful were not collected and based on the size, I assumed these were the remains of the Cannibal. One of the three wild dragons of Westeros known for eating dragons from the dead, newborns, and eggs. Other than the last dragon, the Cannibal was considered to be the only survivor documented until vanishing after the Dance of the Dragons. Everyone thought the Cannibal flew off West or to Essos. Now it appears the Cannibal remained in Dragonstone. Probably because all his sources of food died out. Here resides the only place that felt like home and died here.

Viserion climbed further into crater cautious of his steps when combing close to the skull. The comparison was drastic, not even Drogo could match the Cannibal's mass. This was a reminder that all things can die, not just vanish. I examined the remains until spotting something around the torso region inside the skeleton. Curious, I told Viserion to move closer. He tried to do so until he couldn't get past the ribs. Deciding to do it myself, I climbed carefully on Viserion's neck until reaching his head. That is when I saw what the objects were. Eggs. Dragon eggs. There were three, though the lighting wasn't enough to display the shades.

My eyes widen, seeing three petrified eggs and back to the Cannibal skull. I thought the Cannibal was male. I mean…all the documentation states the Terror of Dragonstone was male. With Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal, we knew they were male since we saw their little pink cocks when they hatched before being sealed inside their bodies or relieving themselves. So many questions were stirring in my head about the dragon reproduction. There has to be a male and a female to fertilize the eggs.

_Sometimes,__when there is a decrease of a population of the gender of dragons, one or two dragons change their genders. It's a rare occurrence, and the Cannibal did just that before he died. Unfortunately, his life came to an end before laying them_, Visenya said.

_Will Drogon, Viserion, or Rhaegal do that_? I asked.

_Again, it is a rare occurrence,_ Visenya replied.

_Well, it would give me an excuse to call my golden dragon Visenya_, I thought which caused my spirit guide to chuckle.

_Collect the eggs, petrified they may be, they can come of use one day,_ Visenya instructed.

I nodded as Viserion read my mind and helped me collect the eggs. It was a struggle in securing the eggs. But I managed by trying the sash wrapping them around my torso and secured it. Viserion carefully climbed out of the crater of Dragonmont before taking off to the sky, flying back to the castle. Once Viserion landed on the field outside the fort, I saw Daenerys who was making her way to Drogon. She stopped when seeing me.

"Had a nice morning stroll?" Daenerys asked.

"Even better," I answered, climbing down and presenting her with the three dragon eggs.

Her eyes widen as she picked up one that was a rusted copper. "Where did you find these?"

"Inside Dragonmont is the skeleton of the Cannibal," I explained.

"And you simply just had the urge to go to the volcano?" Daenerys asked. "Or was it another vision?"

I sighed; I can't do this anymore. I can't keep lying to her about talking to the dead. She knows I have visions, or at least dreams that have symbolism. Especially from the House of the Undying. Just as I was about to tell her, a migraine came out of nowhere.

"You all right?" Daenerys asked.

"Yeah, just a headache," I answered, pinching the brim of my nose.

_You can't tell her about me,_ Visenya said. _Your sister will think your silence is a betrayal and she will not understand._

I sighed in defeat, "Like you said, I had a vision. You can bring the dragons back and have dragon dreams, while I have visions. Aren't we strange?"

Daenerys chuckled, knowing that is true, "And immune to fire."

"True," I said. "Well, let's see if we can find another way to bring these eggs back to life without you walking into a pyre and burning a witch."

Daenerys nodded as she continues to hold the copper egg. I examined the other two seeing one was purple, almost a dark shade of amethyst while the other one was blue. The blue one reminded me of the sea. Having different shades of blues mainly dark blue with undertones of light. Possibly a hundred and fifty years they were hidden from the world in Dragonmont either to be eaten by their parent or forgotten throughout history. The same with the dragon eggs from Asshai. These eggs were utterly different from Asshai since the Asshai eggs were rough, the colors dull, and yet these eggs were almost similar to gems.

Hopefully, we can figure out a way to bring them back to life, and they were female dragons. There are three male dragons left in the world. They cannot be the last dragons after a few centuries.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon stood by the cliffs comprehending what has happened over the period of time since coming to Dragonstone. He was thinking about his meeting with the Targaryen Sisters. Although a part of him was thinking about what the Queen had stated in her speeches. One thing that bothered him.

_'I've been poisoned and died until being resurrected,_' Alysanne said.

Jon could see it in her eyes that a piece of her soul was missing, the same as him. No doubt the R'hllor religion was involved. A part of him felt like something was missing as well. He still had his memories. But the price of his resurrection was the passion he had for being a member of the Night's Watch. Being dead and resurrected at least gave him a loophole to break his vows. Now he has a mission to save Westeros from the Night King and his army of the dead.

Another thing that surprised him was that Alysanne believed him. Or at least for him to repeat his statement again to confirm about the Army of the Dead, and the way her pupils dilated showed understanding. But still, he could sense doubt. Jon didn't have enough time to waste, even though it has only been a day. He needs allies, and the dragons can be an added bonus. However, the way Daenerys spoke, he needs to be more convincing. Hopefully later today he can get another appointment with Queen Alysanne to discuss the issue.

She doesn't want the North, stating that it was a test, which Jon felt like a fool. At least he knows he can assure Sansa that the North is not in danger of losing its independence. Unless it's another ruse. He'll need to take his sister's word more seriously. It's like when she says "don't," he does the opposite and like a child experiences the consequences. However, he has a good feeling about it. When he enters the throne room, there was a sense of security when talking to Queen Alysanne. He had a gut feeling. The same he had with the Wildlings. Only the one issue he had is that he cannot return to his ship. Anywhere he goes, there was a Dothraki or Unsullied.

The sound of someone approaching broke his train of thought. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing it was Tyrion.

"I came down here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack," Tyrion started. "You're making it difficult. You look a lot better brooding than I do. You make me feel like I'm failing at brooding over failing."

"I'm a prisoner on this island," Jon commented.

"I wouldn't say you're a prisoner on this island," Tyrion tried to reason. "You're free to walk the castle, the beaches, to go wherever you want."

"Except to my ship," Jon reminded. "You took my ship."

"I wouldn't say we took your ship," Tyrion said.

Jon felt like Tyrion was lecturing him like a parent would.

"I'm not playing word games with you," Jon warned. "The dead are coming for us all."

"Why don't you figure out what to do about my missing fleet and murdered allies, and I'll figure out what to do about your walking dead," Tyrion sarcastically offered.

"It's hard for me to fathom. It really is," Jon snapped. "If someone told me about the white walkers and the Night King…" he stopped taking a deep breath. "You probably don't believe me."

Tyrion paused, looking at him, "I do, actually."

"You didn't before," Jon muttered. "_'Grumkins and snarks,'_ you called them. Do you remember?"

Tyrion smiled a little.

"You said it was all nonsense," Jon continued.

"It was nonsense. Everybody knew it." Tyrion agreed. "But then Mormont saw them, and you saw them." He walked over to Jon. "And I trust the eyes of an honest man, more than I trust what everybody knows."

"How do I convince people who don't know me that an enemy they don't believe in is coming to kill them all?"

"Good question."

"I know it's a good question. I'm looking for an answer."

"People's minds aren't made for problems that large. White walkers, the Night King, Army of the Dead – it's almost a relief to confront, a comfortable, familiar monster like my sister."

"I need to help my people for what's coming. I can't help them from here." Jon looked at Tyrion. "I'd like a word with her. Everyone told me to learn from my father's mistakes. Don't go south. Don't answer a summons from the Mad king's daughter, a foreign invader. And here I am, a Northern Fool."

"Children are not their fathers, luckily for all of us. And sometimes there's more to foreign invaders and Northern fools than meets the eye. Alysanne and Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago, but they didn't. Instead, they stayed where they were and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you're our guest here, you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King's daughters. Alysanne protects people from monsters, just as you do. It's why she came here, having a vision. And she needs a good reason to head north to fight an enemy she's never seen on the word of a man she doesn't know. After a single meeting, it's not a reasonable thing to ask. "

Jon looked at Tyrion, contemplating his words. The dwarf had a good point. He wouldn't believe a person telling him of the White Walkers if he hadn't seen them before. Jon also noticed Tyrion mentioned something about a vision. Knowing he needed another appointment with the Queen, he left to prepare to make his statement.

"So, do you have anything reasonable to ask?" Tyrion asked.

Jon stopped and stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you are a Northern fool. I'm asking if there's something I can do to help you. " Tyrion offered.

The King in the North appreciated this. What matters is protecting his people and what Tyrion has been saying about the Dragon Queen. They, or at least Alysanne, cares about the people. If he can get the Dragon Sisters on their side, there is a chance to save the North. Because what he saw in Hardhome, he doesn't want to experience it again.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's_ POV

"Dragonglass?" I asked.

"Yes?" Tyrion answered. "Volcanic glass, obsidian. He says you have a tremendous amount of it here."

Tyrion, Daenerys, and I were in the Painted Table room trying to figure out plans on getting the Dornish to King's Landing. However, based on Jon Snow's testimony the other day, we might have to postpone the siege and focus on the Great War. There was one problem though, House Tyrell and House Redwyne want to do the invasion as soon as possible to bring justice to their family members who perished in the destruction of the Sept of Baelor by wildfire. I made a promise, and I have to keep my word. I learned that mistake with the Masters. Except, I have a sacred obligation to protect the realm. So, I'm in a predicament to decide which war is more important. If I claim the Seven Kingdoms now, I will have a more massive army, but will it be too late when the Army of the Dead comes through.

Daenerys believes if we can grow our armies, the better of our chances, "Why are we talking about glass? We just lost one of our allies."

"Which is why I was speaking to Jon Snow, a potential ally," Tyrion explained.

"And what does the King in the North want with dragonglass?" I asked, now curious.

"Apparently, it can be turned into weapons that kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers. Or stop them. Destroy them. Unsure about the nomenclature." Tyrion answered, still not believing the situation.

Daenerys walked around the table, "And what do you think about this Army of the Dead and White Walkers and the Night King?"

"I'd very much like to believe that Jon Snow is wrong. But a wise man once said that you should believe a thing simply because you want to believe it." Tyrion said.

I nodded, "Which wise man said this?"

Tyrion paused, "I don't remember."

"Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom again?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"I would never do that…to you." He said.

I snorted, rolling my eyes.

"The reason I believe Jon Snow is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come. I would have told him not to come. And he's here anyway. You don't have to believe him. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong, it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here. It's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step towards a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand—Casterly Rock and Lannisport."

The problem was I believe in Jon Snow. He was the White Wolf in my instruction in becoming the Queen of Westeros and saving the realm. Varys confirmed that King Snow inherited the title by the Lords in the North and the color of his direwolf's pelt was white. I could see it in his eyes that he has seen things that cannot be explained, just as I have in the House in the Undying. Let alone the man being in my visions. My main concern was time. How much time do I have before the Dead march south? Tyrion, Daenerys, and my allies want to siege King's Landing now.

Meanwhile Ser Barristan thinks I should take my visions seriously. Grey Worm and Missandei will comply with any decision I make, so having off balance of the scale makes it challenging to decide. If only Jorah were here to help me.

"What was that Ser Davos said about taking a knife in the heart for his people?" Daenerys asked. "Did you notice that?"

"You must allow them their flights of fancy. It's dreary in the North," Tyrion answered.

Something tells me that it was not a flight of fancy. Daenerys seemed to notice this as well. There was enough at stake that we should not investigate a play on word. It could be an exaggeration of Jon being wounded in the chest, a slash that didn't go deep though mares the area of where his heart could be. If Jon Snow did get stabbed in the heart, then he should be dead.

I needed time to make the decision, but I decided I should help King Snow in preparation for the Great War. I instructed one of my soldiers to fetch Jon Snow and to meet me at the Sunset Steps. Ser Barristan accompanies me, though when I reached the ramp, he gave me privacy though stood guard in case of an emergency. Sunset was approaching when King Snow came down the steps. Our attention turned to the horizon as Viserion and Rhaegal roughhoused in the sky.

"Amazing thing to see," King Snow complimented.

"Daenerys and I named them after our brothers, Viserys and Rhaegar. They're both gone now," I said, facing him. "I've been informed you've lost your brothers as well. I give my condolences."

King Snow nodded.

"People thought dragons were gone forever, but here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know," I said.

King Snow stepped forward, "You've been talking to Tyrion."

"He is my Lord Hand," I murmured, crossing my arms and leaning on the rail.

"He enjoys talking," he said.

I snorted, "I couldn't disagree. Then again, we all enjoy what we're good at."

"I don't," he murmured.

I looked at him, seeing him contemplating while staring into the sunset. He doesn't enjoy killing. He doesn't enjoy ruling. The Wall has definitely changed this man. Thinking about the Wall, I need to ask him a question. I hope the answer is correct.

"Tell me Jon Snow, when you served on the Wall, did you know of a man name Aemon Targaryen?" I asked. "He is the Maester assigned to Castle Black."

A small yet sad smile graced his lips, "Aye, I have. He mentored me and my friend Sam. Got me out of trouble as well."

"By any chance, is he still station there or has the Citadel reassigned him to a new post? I would appreciate to meet my great-uncle," I said.

King Snow turned to face me, "Your Grace…I'm sorry to tell you this but…Aemon Targaryen passed away a year ago."

My heart sank when hearing this, "Oh…how, did he…die?"

"He lived a long life. Age finally caught up to him and he passed away in his sleep." He explained. "He was a great Maester. Sacrificed all in the name of honor and duty."

"I wished I had known him," I sighed, for I had dreaded this. Selfishly wanting to meet Aemon Targaryen. But alas the Stranger had beaten me yet again leaving Daenerys and I the only remaining Targaryen left in the world. Unless the third Targaryen is standing before me. "I will allow you to mine the dragonglass and forge weapons from it."

This surprised King Snow.

"Any resources or men you need, I will provide for you," I added.

"Thank you," he said, still baffled. "So, you believe me, then, about the Night King and the Army of the Dead?"

"Are you called the White Wolf?" I challenged.

"It's one of my aliases," he confirmed.

I nodded, "Several years ago, my sister's Khalasar and I came upon the city of Qarth. There we entered the House of the Undying. The Warlocks showed me visions from the past, present, and future. I saw my brother Rhaegar and his wife cradle their babe, I saw a bloody massacre for a wedding, and I saw a man made of ice resurrect the dead from the snow hills," I stared into his dark eyes. "I believe you. It seems the North and the East are deviant places."

"Then you'll help me?" King Snow asked.

"I will need to discuss terms with my allies. I made a promise I have to keep. But I assure you, Viserion and I will be there to aid you in the Great War." I answered.

"Thank you, your grace," he sighed in relief.

"And King Snow," I added getting his attention. "We will discuss terms on the alliance and truce. The North will be its own independent kingdom. House Stark will have its monarchy once more as it had with Torrhen Stark."

Once more, this surprised the Northman.

"You'd better get to work, Jon Snow." I finished the discussion, turning my attention to the sunset.

King Snow opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't. Instead, he gave a bow before heading back to the castle, possibly to tell Ser Davos of the grand news along with a letter to Lady Stark. I may be in a predicament, but I know that I need to start making preparation for the Long Night and the Great War that is to come.

* * *

**Hello my lovely readers.**

**Thank you all for your patience. As a reminder I am on summer vacation visiting my family in Texas and doing some volunteer work and studying for an important test. Also, I am getting back on track for _A Doe in a Lion's Den_. So, my usual posting of everyday to every other day is on hold and I will post when I can. Thank you all for the support in my story. Also I realized I've made a mistake, I thought Vhagar was a male, but going over the fandom site, Vhagar is actually female. So, my bad. Can't judge a dragon by it's name.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	65. Chapter 65: The Rock and the Garden

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 65: The Rock and the Garden**

_Alysanne's POV_

The following days that followed after my meeting with King Snow remained the same. I tried to talk with my allies in postponing the invasion until I get better intel of the Crown. Sadly, Lady Olenna, who seems to be in charge of the War Council, is determined to get Cersei Lannister off the Iron Throne. She reminded me of my promise, and therefore, I have no choice but to continue to keep my promise. If we can get the invasion going as soon as possible, then we have a chance of increasing our forces.

Let Jon Snow focus on the preparation for the Great War, provide him with the men and resources needed when the time comes. If what his friend says is true, then there should be enough dragonglass. Already the Unsullied and Dothraki were assisting the Northern company into the mines. After the first day, he returned, placing a sample of obsidian on the table. An extrusive igneous rock. Basically, volcanic glass. A shiny black stone that is too brittle for war and too sharp for building.

I picked up the sample, "_Zīrtys perzys."_

"What does that mean?" King Snow asked.

"Frozen fire," Daenerys answered.

Jon Snow nodded as he gave his report about the mines. For Daenerys and I want to know the status of the mind and the safety of our men. As I stated before obsidian can be sharp. The last thing we need is our men losing fingers.

Anyway, I stood in front of the Painted Table with my Small Council. Around this time the Unsullied should be reaching the Sunset Sea. However, we have another issue on the matter as the War Council joined in on the conversation. We lost one of our allies that were the Greyjoy siblings, which Varys knocks down their totem of a golden Kraken. Captain Euron Greyjoy is someone we underestimated. Then again, Yara disobeyed a direct order to take the Leviathan Trail and took the coastal route which exposed her to our enemies. Now the Dornish will have to march to King's Landing and make a few stops at Harvest Hall and other locations in the Reach.

"We need to find Euron Greyjoy's fleet and sink it," Daenerys said.

"Your highness, he's destroyed a good portion of our fleet," Varys said. "To send our remaining ships after him –"

"I'm not talking about sending our ships after him," Daenerys interrupted.

All eyes stared at her. Was she recommending that she goes in burning the Iron Fleet? It sounds like one plan the problem is, we don't know what sort of ballistics the Iron Fleet has. They could have catapults and trebuchet and it only takes one lucky shot to knock her down. If not, what happened to Meraxas three hundred years ago, it took one long arrow in the eye.

"Would you have to go yourself?" Tyrion asked.

Daenerys gave him a look.

"Euron's ships could be anywhere or in more than one place. You'd be flying around the open seas alone for who knows how long," Tyrion reminded.

"I wouldn't be alone," Daenerys said, crossing her arms. "I would have Drogon and Rhaegal. What can anyone do to them?"

"They can still do something to you," Missandei joined in on the discussion. "It only takes one arrow."

"And if they are using ballistic weapons, one projectile can knock you into the ocean," I added.

"It's too great of a risk. You're too important as a Khaleesi and your sister's heir," Ser Barristan reminded.

True, I am not married nor do I have a child to be my successor if I were to die. Therefore, Daenerys is currently my heir. I need my sister safe and prepared if I were to die from another assassination attempt or from battle. For if I die a second time, I will remain dead. As much as I do not want to die. I need to make sure the Realm is in good hands. Although Tyrion asked me to consider a third option if anything were to happen to us. If I go by bloodline, the next successor of Targaryen blood would be Doran Martell, since he is descended from Princess Daenerys Martell nee Targaryen. The sister of King Daeron II Targaryen, and who dealt with the Blackfyre Rebellion. Otherwise, my other option is what I have left in Meereen of a political council. Either way, House Lannister will not sit on the Iron Throne. I rather have Viserion burn the Iron Throne before letting Tywin Lannister's legacy rule over the Seven Kingdoms that my ancestors fought hard to obtain.

Changing the subject on the line of successions, I looked at Tyrion and Ser Barristan, "What about Casterly Rock?"

"The Unsullied will be there soon," Varys reported.

"And what will they face?" Missandei asked, the concern being heard in her voice.

"A difficult situation," Varys answered. "They know we're coming."

"Yes. Cersei believes my sole purpose in life is to destroy House Lannister," Tyrion said, as he stared at the Painted Table of his childhood home. "She will be ready. No one has ever taken the Rock. The Lannister Army is still the army my father built. Well-trained and well-provisioned. 10,000 men at least. They will see us coming. They will be ready. The gates of Casterly Rock are impregnable. The fight up the walls will be hard. We will be at a disadvantage. Many men will die. Just as my father said they would." He looked up, staring at me. "Interesting thing about my father – he built our house up from near ruin. He built our army, he built Casterly Rock as we know it, but he didn't build the sewers. That was beneath him, so he gave the job to the lowest person he could find—me. He was right, I was low. The company I kept, low. Women, mostly. They weren't welcome at the Rock. Father disapproved of that sort of behavior. Couldn't walk them through the front gates, I couldn't have them in my chambers, so in the process of building the sewers I threw in something for myself. It was a passage that began in an out of the way cove by the sea and ended beneath one of the main guard towers. No better place for low pursuits than beneath the ground. Casterly Rock is an impregnable fortress. But as a good friend of mine once said,_ 'Give me ten good men and I'll impregnate the bitch._' And so, it begins. They will face the bulk of the Lannister forces. They will be outnumbered. They will have less armor and fewer weapons. But my sister's armies fight for her out of fear. The Unsullied will be fighting for something greater. They will be fighting for freedom and the person who gave it to them. They will be fighting for you. And that is why they will triumph."

Must give him credit, he is good at giving a speech.

"Does anyone else knows of this secret passage?" I asked.

"Yes, my brother Jaime," Tyrion answered.

"That is why Casterly Rock will be the diversion," Ser Barristan spoke out. "Ser Jaime will anticipate this, but he will not anticipate an attack on Lannisport. Last time Lannisport was attacked by sea was the start of the Greyjoy Rebellion. There our forces shall siege the city, confiscate their artillery, and hold the remaining of House Lannister hostage before marching East."

"How many Lannisters are there?" I asked.

"Cersei, Jaime, and I are the last of the Head of our family. Then there is my uncle Kevan last remaining child Lady Janei who is a young maiden, then there is my Aunt Genna who's married to Emmon Frey and has taken residence in the Riverlands, my cousin Tyrek son of Ser Tygett, Gerion illegitimate daughter Joy hill. They are the last of Tytos bloodline. Along with ten other cousins."

"So, we don't have to worry about the extinction of House Lannister," Daenerys muttered.

"Who is in charge of the Rock as we speak?" I asked.

"Ser Damion Lannister. He is named Castellan of the Rock since Cersei refused to take her position as Warden of the Westerland since Ser Jaime was still sworn to the Kingsguard, and Tyrion as your Hand," Varys informed.

"Hopefully the other Lannisters are wise enough to surrender before the attack begins," I said.

"He will, as will the others when seeing your numbers," Tyrion promised.

The plan was simple, we may have lost the Greyjoy siblings from an unexpected naval fleet, and giving Cersei and Jaime Lannister a false victory with Casterly Rock as we take Lannisport. Let alone the preparation for when the Lannisters siege Highgarden. Varys received word a third of the Lannister army, and the Tarly army has been seen marching through the Reach. No doubt heading to Highgarden. Once we get confirmation of their taking over, the Dothraki will march over meeting their armies halfway. Luckily Lord Willas and Ser Garlan have evacuated Highgarden and the villages surrounding it. As the brothers took residence in Oldtown with their fortune. Along with Ser Garlan handling a portion of the Redwyne fleet for there has been sighting of the Iron Fleet at the Sunset Sea. Varys has genuinely proven himself lately with the reports of where our enemies are located.

At first, we had the mistake of rushing things without giving his little birds time to gather information. Now the month has given us enough information to play the game. The Dragon and the Lion are playing chess, and I made the mistake of making the first move. It cost me a hundred ships, and what I'm planning for the Westerland coast might cost me a few more. But the original plan is to have the Unsullied take over Lannisport and march their way east, stopping at the Twins. Reports came in that Lord Walder Frey, and the majority of his male line is dead by an unexpected massacre. Based on the reports, a woman wore Walder Frey's face and gave poisoned wine to his sons and grandsons who had participated in the Red Wedding. When the men were dead, the assassin revealed her face telling the widow_, 'The North remembers. Winter came for House Frey.'_

However, not all the Frey's had perished, as the women who were the daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters along with the young boys remain. The Current Warden being Waldron Frey a boy of age fifteen, except Lady Arwaya is appointed as regent until her brother comes of age. They were given orders to keep Lord Edmure Tully a prisoner. So, when the Unsullied marches east, they will make a stop to rescue Lord Edmure Tully and reinstate him as Warden of the Riverlands, as long as he bends the knee. I don't hold the actions of the father against the children, but House Tully did rebel against my family. If he complies, then I have another ally for the Great War and another Kingdom. Thus, leaving the Vale, who is currently holding allegiance to House Stark. A discussion with King Snow and Lord Petyr Baelish who is presently Lord Protector of the Vale until his stepson comes of age. Varys informed me to be careful about Lord Baelish, as the eunuch states, _'Littlefinger is the second most devious man in the Seven Kingdoms'_

The meeting ended there as we waited to receive word from Grey Worm and Black Scarab on their reports of taking Casterly Rock and Lannisport.

.**o0o**.

It would be a few days later when Varys came up to me with his latest report that Highgarden has been sacked. The volunteered soldiers were killed, outnumbered while the servants were spared. Currently, Ser Jaime Lannister and Lord Randyll Tarly were having their men ransacking the castle confiscating any valuables to give to the Iron Bank to pay off the royal debt. I thanked my Master of Whisperers and headed to Lady Olenna's chambers to provide her with the update.

I knocked on the door, which she granted me access. Entering her chambers, I found Lady Olenna sitting near the balcony that had a view of Aegon's Garden. She sat by a table, still dressed in her mourning clothes. One I would deeply understand, losing her only son and her two youngest grandchildren. House Tyrell still remains with her two eldest grandsons, along with her daughters who were married to other houses, yet the point of losing a member of your bloodline is heartening. It reminded me of the time I miscarried and the ache I felt of a child who never got a chance to live.

"It's done," She said as if knowing what I was about to say.

"It is," I confirmed. "Highgarden has been taken by Ser Jaime and Lord Tarly."

"And now the rains weep o'er our halls." She sighed, nodding her head. "Did we fight well?"

"I can't say since I don't know your armies' skills. All the men who volunteered to stay died for a cause," I replied.

"It was never our forte," she said. "Golden roses, indeed."

I went over to the small bar collecting two goblets and a pitcher of Arbor wine and brought it to the table. I hardly drank, but I had a feeling the Queen of Roses would prefer a hard drink over a cup of tea right now.

"Your Hand thought Ser Jaime would be defending Casterly Rock." She commented.

"There was that possibility, although Lord Tyrion's one entrance was known by Ser Jaime. Therefore, we are taking Lannisport as well, capturing the remaining Lannisters and holding them hostage until further notice." I said, coming over placing the goblets on the table and sat across from her. "Although, Tyrion, one for talking, states that Casterly Rock isn't worth much anymore. Well, other than the sentimental values and history."

"So, Ser just let you take it?"

"Apparently, yet taking Lannisport ruins their trade."

"And he took his army, his real army, and went where they weren't."

"As I predicted. There are always lessons in history, including those that were failures. And history tends to repeats itself."

"Yes. You must be very wise by now. But I must give Ser Jaime some credit, even though he is predictable as his mentor and brother would say. A slow learner."

"If Tywin was so clever, why didn't he take Highgarden the moment the Lannister gold mines ran dry?" Lady Olenna asked then scoffed, "I suppose I'll be able to ask him myself soon enough. No more learning from my mistakes, eh?"

"And what mistakes were those?" I asked.

"I did unspeakable things to protect my family. Or watched them being done on my orders. I never lost a night's sleep over them. They were necessary. And whatever I imagined necessary for the safety of House Tyrell, I did." She answered. "But Cersei Lannister has done things…I was incapable of imagining. That was my prize mistake – She's a monster, you do know that?"

"So, I've been told."

Lord Tyrion, Lord Varys, and Ser Barristan informed me of the destructive actions that Cersei Lannister had committed over the years. Not the basics of adultery, fornication, incest, and treason. She committed regicide by poisoning King Robert Baratheon with potent wine to dull his sense, impairing him in the boar hunt. She placed her illegitimate son Joffrey Baratheon on the throne, killing Lord Eddard Stark and the Northern company, attempted assassinations of Lord Tyrion, abuse of power on the nobles in court, giving the fanatics control in the faith militant, the arrest of Loras Tyrell on his sexuality to avoid marrying him, along with Queen Margaery who defended her brother, if not countless men beaten and killed due to their sexual encounters. But what she did in the Sept of Baelor, was far worse than a massacre, she committed genocide to avoid being trialed knowing the evidence found her guilty. She used wildfire, blowing the sept up and killing thousands of people. If not the resting place of my ancestors and family. However, avoiding justice still comes at a price, karma as the people of Essos calls it, which…Young King Tommen died. The cause of death is undetermined, only that the young man died from falling out from a window. Either he was pushed, or he committed suicide, and I pray for his soul being a victim of his mother's vicious game.

"She's a disease," Lady Olenna added. "I regret my role in spreading it."

I nodded, taking a sip of wine, "You are welcome to stay here in Dragonstone until the war is over. I would offer you a ship to the Arbor, but I fear for your safety if any of Euron fleet is still out there. Unless you wish safe passage to Braavos or Pentos?"

"As much as this island is dreary, I will remain here a bit longer," she said. "I've been told of what Cersei wanted to do with me."

"So I've heard. Whipping you through the streets and beheading you in front of the Red Keep. Flaying you alive and hanging you from the walls of King's landing. And many other imaginable deaths," I listed frankly. "As long as you are here in Dragonstone, you are under my protection."

Lady Olenna nodded as she took the wine, taking a large gulp of Arbors Red. "I'd hate to die like her son. Clawing at my neck, foam and bile spilling from my mouth, eyes bloodred, skin purple. Must have been horrible for Cersei, as a mother. It was horrible enough for me. A shocking scene. Not at all what I intended. You see, I had never seen the poison work before."

My eyes widen, realizing what she was confessing. It had been a mystery in who killed Joffrey Baratheon. History will forever remember Tyrion Lannister being the one who killed his royal nephew. As the trial by combat under the gods' judgment, between Prince Oberyn as Tyrion Champion and Ser Gregor Clegane as the Crowns champion. Only the Mountain crushed the Red Viper, declaring guilty of the crime of regicide on Tyrion. However, it was not the dwarf who killed the Bastard King of Madness, it was the Queen of Thornes.

"One day, I want to tell Cersei before her execution. I want her to know it was me." She murmured.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked sharply.

"So you can understand how the game works," she answered.

I stood up and excused myself, unable to look at her for a moment. Out in the halls, I made way to my chamber, feeling the phantom burn of the poison the warlocks gave me. Feeling my throat constrict, mouth going dry except I was still able to breathe and wide awake. I have a Kingslayer in my council who framed Tyrion on the crimes of regicide and nepoticide. Now I am stuck with this information and torn if I should inform Tyrion of this or not. Right now, he has been clever with the assistance of Lord Varys and Ser Barristan on battle strategy. If I tell him the truth…will he fumble with rage or not?

* * *

**Hey Guys, what do you think of the latest chapter.**

**I also posted a new chapter for _A Doe in a Lion's Den._**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review.**


	66. Chapter 66: Runes from the Children

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_Languages:_**

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 66: Runes from the Children**

I wandered through the books in the library in search of documents that can resurrect the dragons. Ever since Vhagar told Visenya who passed the message onto me, did I find the Cannibals three eggs. Three petrified eggs. Probably turned to stone decades after the Dance of Dragons. Daenerys managed to revive the three dragons of Asshai, so there must be a chance to bring back more dragons to the world. Especially when the remaining three dragons were all male. Unless one of the dragons changes their gender to produce eggs, the chances of that happening are slim. As Visenya stated, it is a rare occurrence. So, what are my chances that within one of these three eggs lays a female dragon?

When Daenerys revived Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal, it was through fire and blood as Drogo and Rhaego were being burned in the funeral pyre along with Mirri Maz Duur. Therefore, magic was involved since that godswoman was indeed a witch, who dwell in blood magic. Then there was a previous attempt from my Great-Grandfather, Aegon the Fifth, as he tried to resurrect the dragons from the two eggs he acquired. Sadly, it resulted in the tragedy of Summerhall, the night half of the Targaryens perished and the birth of Rhaegar, along with the family gift of immunity towards fire…but only two. Something must have gone wrong, also Aegon V must have done the ritual incorrectly. Then again…he was dealing with petrified eggs, not fresh eggs. Visenya knows how to do the ritual, except she won't tell me. She wanted me to learn and discover it by myself. If she told me everything, then I don't learn in becoming a Queen. Only a puppet.

Therefore, my free time when not training or planning for the siege has been going through the library in search for any document that contains information in how to perform a successful ritual. In the beginning, fresh eggs were put in a Targaryen newborns crib. The first set of hatchlings were born when Princess Rhaena Targaryen placed dragon eggs in her younger siblings' cribs of Jaehaerys and Alysanne — the result was the birth of Vermithor and Silverwing. This practice continued thus leading to the belief that if the egg hatched, the baby was a true Targaryen; however, if the hatchling dies in the following weeks, then it is a bad omen. Unless a living dragon bonds with the Targaryen.

The thought of children saddens me. As time passes on, I remained unmarried and childless. It was a safe option to holdoff on starting a family. The last thing I need is to be pregnant during the war, or have a child that Cersei can use against me. If the Long Night weren't in existence or the Army of the Dead, I would have started my family in Meereen, as Queen of the Bay of Dragons. If Jorah hadn't been exiled or contracted Greyscale, no doubt our relationship would have gone farther to what I always desired as the Warlocks confirmed that my deepest desire was to have a family with Jorah. Especially when I realized during the previous dreams, I had of a little boy who was Jorah's child. I loved Jorah, but we can never be together. My Bear was probably by now dead mentally from the disease or killed himself before becoming a stone.

Lost in my mind, I hummed a sad melody of a song I have written during the voyage:

"My love, my love  
My fearless love  
I will not say goodbye  
Sea may rise  
Sky may fall  
My love will never die

Go on, go on  
Go bravely on  
Into the blackest night  
Hold my breath  
'Til your return  
My love will never die

My heart, my heart  
My drowning heart  
Oh all the tears I've cried  
Oh I may weep forevermore  
My love will never die

My love, my love  
My fearless love  
I will not say goodbye  
Sea may rise  
Sky may fall  
My love will never die

Sea may rise  
Sky may fall  
My love will never die  
My love will never die"

"I've seriously have become my brother," I thought out loud to myself.

Rhaegar was constantly writing songs and playing music. If I weren't in exile no doubt, I would have learned how to play a musical instrument. Probably a harp just like my brother. No doubt Jorah was my first true love. Yes, he had betrayed me, but thinking about it, his betrayal happened before our relationship occurred. During when Viserys was going to be King and Jorah was a desperate man wanting to go home. When he fell in love with me, I will never know. But our relationship was not love at first sight, it developed overtime. Jorah was my link towards home, he's what I had of home, my mentor, my advisor, and my dearest friend. My confidant that I can trust, as his words of wisdom, helped me through my internal struggles. And after what happened in the Veil, he knew me body and soul.

"That you have," Ser Barristan confirmed.

I jumped slightly, not expecting a response. I turned around, seeing a very amused Ser Barristan.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"King Jon has something to show you something," Ser Barristan answered.

"Show me what?" I asked.

"Something in the mines," Ser Barristan answered again.

I nodded, sighing in defeat as I had yet to find any documents that could help me resurrect the petrified eggs. Did Stannis Baratheon destroy any evidence of the Targaryens dynasty under his brother's command? Leaving nothing but the tombs and architectures as they are. It was already devastating to discover the temple for the Seven was destroyed. Since the statues were carved from the ships of the Valyrian, the last wood from Valyria. As Varys informed me after Melisandre departure, that she told Stannis to burn the Seven, calling them false idols. Once more proof to be cautious with the R'hllor religion.

Anyway, I left the library and joined Daenerys and Missandei who were curious for Jon Snow's request to show us what he has discovered in the mines. We made our way down the spiral steps towards the beach, accompanied by Daenerys Dothraki guards, of Kovarro, Aggo, and Qhono. As other Dothraki were preparing for battle as it was expected we would be taking back Highgarden. We were merely giving the Lannisters time with a sense of security before we attack.

"Your Grace, there's still no word from the Unsullied," Missandei commented.

"Soon, my dear friend," I assured her. "He will come back to you."

"He'd better," Missandei heaved, with much determination.

Daenerys and I stopped, looking at her.

"What happened?" Daenerys asked curiously.

Missandei couldn't help but smile, "Many things."

Daenerys rested her hand on Missandei shoulder, "Many things?"

The Naathi blushed, as her smile widened. Daenerys and I were curious and surprised. So…Grey Worm was not emasculated. We were interested in her answer to the longest question we had since acquiring the Unsullied. Does the Unsullied have their pillars and lose their stones, or is all of it gone? Because the word castrated has become generic than its actual definition.

Missandei was about to answer the desperate question when footsteps approach us.

"Your Grace, Your Highness," King Snow called out, at the bottom of the steps from the beach.

_"We're not done with this,"_ I told Missandei in Valyrian.

Daenerys looked at her guards, "**It's all right."**

Missandei, Ser Barristan, Daenerys and I joined King Snow as he escorted us through the beach towards the closest mines. At the entrance was Ser Davos who held a torch. King Snow accepted the torch, leading us further into the cavern.

"I wanted you to see it before we start hacking it to bits," King Snow said.

We travel further into the cave, the gravel sand turning to solid stone as the light from the entrance of the tunnel vanished. We turned to another tunnel, noticing the volcanic rock being smoothed out from the ages of winds and tides. We continue onward in the darkness, relying on the torch to give us light. After some time, we entered a cavern where Jon Snow placed the torch in a brazier providing more light. All-around on the walls and ceiling protrude dragonglass. As if it was gold under Casterly Rock. A gem that was never given the same respect of value.

"Well, this is it. All we'll ever need," King Snow said, happily.

Daenerys and I stood there in awe for the beauty in that have been hidden by nature.

"There is something else I want to show you, Your Grace," he added.

Keeping the torch, we went through another tunnel that took us to a different chamber. Like the previous one, dragonglass exposed itself like scales. Only when the light illuminated the room, there were more details on the walls. Symbols of spiral shapes and circles. My eyes widen having a flashback of the vision back from the House of the Undying. The Boulder that had a spiral on it. Now an entire cave had these runes.

I placed my hand on one of the runes, "_I've seen these before_."

_"From your vision_?" Daenerys asked.

I nodded, tracing my finger over the carved spiral.

"The children of the forest made these," King Snow explained.

"When?" Daenerys asked.

"A very long time ago," King Snow answered.

"They were right here, standing where we're standing," Daenerys whispered. "Before there were Targaryens or Starks or Lannisters. Maybe even before there were men."

"No," he disagreed, leading to a cave drawing. Figures in the shape of humans. Although there were two different sets. One in shape of children, while the other was bigger as of men with etchings of what could possibly resemble clothes, with blades in their hands. "They were here together, the children and the First Men."

"Doing what? Fighting each other?" Daenerys asked.

King Snow looked at Daenerys, as he took her hand and directed the torch to reveal another cave drawling. Only this one was far more detail, adding pigment of the color that resembled blue. My eyes widen for the center of the drawing was the Night King from my dreams and visions. The man made of ice.

"They fought together against their common enemy," He answered. "Despite their differences, despite their suspicions. Together."

I stared at King Snow, seeing how serious he was about this. I believed in him on his words, for it was Visenya that told me to trust the White Wolf. These cave drawings solidify the fact that he was indeed telling the truth from all this.

"We need to do the same if we're going to survive," he said glancing at the White Walkers. "Because the enemy is real. It's always been real."

"And you say you can't defeat them without our armies and dragons?" Daenerys asked.

"No, I don't think I can," he confessed.

Daenerys paused and looked at me. The King in the North knows he has my support, from my Unsullied and Viserion. However, the one with the most significant assets were Daenerys, who has a hundred thousand Dothraki warriors and two dragons. I gave her a silent look to accept the arrangement for the sake of the realm. Daenerys stepped forward to King Snow looking into his eyes.

"I will fight for you. I will fight for the North." Daenerys said. "When you bend the knee."

I mentally groaned.

King Snow sighed, "My people . . . Won't accept a southern ruler. Not after everything they've suffered."

Because Daenerys could speak, I stepped forward putting an end to this discussion, "To which I understand. One day all Seven Kingdoms will join as one. But it will not happen during our generation, in our lifetime. They chose you to lead them. They chose you to protect them."

King Snow nodded in acceptance.

"Isn't their survival more important than your pride?" Daenerys interjected.

I scowled at her.

King Snow stared at my sister's eyes a questionable look. There was this look from his eyes that I questioned that he was giving my sister. Shaking my head, thinking it was an illusion from the flames, I decided we should join the others. In the main cavern, we saw Ser Davos telling a story about dragonglass that entertained Missandei. Afterward, we started to head outside so the miners can prepare for the excavation on the dragonglass. Outside the cave stood Varys and Lord Tyrion.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We took Casterly Rock," Tyrion answered.

"That's very good to hear," Daenerys said, yet both men held a serious face. "Isn't it?"

I took a deep breath and have them give me the full report. As expected, there wasn't much of the Lannister Army in Casterly Rock, as the estimation was an eighth of the army was there defending the castle. Also, as predicted, a partial of the Iron Fleet attacked my navy by the Rock. We still captured Lannisport; however, none of the Lannister family were they, they too have been evacuated, except for the city. Fortunately, the Redwyne fleet that remained in the Arbor lead by Ser Garlan and Lord Paxter two sons Horas and Hobber has taken down a hundred of the Iron Fleet, some have escaped, yet they were not the extreme battleship that took down the Greyjoy Fleet. Along with confirmation that Highgarden has been taken, which was known and that the Lannister and Tarly army have begun collecting the harvest.

Daenerys became furious, I tried to calm her down, for this was expected, but she didn't see it that way. We started walking fast, speaking in Valyrian while our company followed.

"You'll want to discuss this amongst yourselves," Ser Davos said. "Perhaps—"

"You will stay," Daenerys ordered. Then looked at me, _"All our allies are gone."_

_"They are not gone,"_I told her. "_We only lost the Greyjoy fleet and a few dozen ships. It was anticipated."_

_"Well, your navy has been taken from us while you've been sitting here on this island."_Daenerys challenged.

"_Mind your tongue,"_ I growled.

"You still have the largest armies," Tyrion tried to reason.

"Who won't be able to eat because Cersei has taken all the food from the Reach," Daenerys countered changing to Common Tongue.

"Have you forgotten I made arrangements to get supplies from the Bay of Dragons on a routine schedule. We might have lost Highgarden temporarily, but we did not lose the Reach. House Tyrell still stands." I corrected her.

"Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back. We still have enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the mainland. Commit to the blockade of King's Landing." Tyrion advised. "We have a plan. It's still the right plan."

"The right plan!" Daenerys bellowed, glaring at Tyrion. "Your strategy has lost us the Iron Island, and delayed Dorne's assistance, and now the Reach."

"Daenerys," I snapped getting her attention. "Do not underestimate my council. Ser Barristan, Lord Tyrion, Lord Varys and I made a calculated decision. We can't predict from our enemies—"

"Our enemies?" She growled. "His family, you mean. The family that killed father, and Rhaegar's family."

"Don't go there," I warned.

She glared at Tyrion, "Perhaps you don't want to hurt them after all."

The dragons screech gaining out attention as they flew over to the ocean. Daenerys turned her attention to them.

"Enough with the clever plans." She said and looked at us. "We have three large dragons. We are going to fly them to the Red Keep."

"Daenerys," I warned. "We've discussed this."

"Our enemies are in the Red Keep." She challenged. "What kind of a Queen will you be if you are not willing to risk your life to fight them?"

"A smart one," Tyrion objected in my defense.

I took a deep breath and looked at Jon Snow. He has fought in wars. He has experience in this. So, needing his guidance, I walked over to him.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked.

This caught him off guard, "I would never presume to—"

"I'm at war. Trying to reclaim my home. What do you think I should do?" I clarified, staring deep into his brown eyes, seeing a familiar look Rhaegar used to give. But he is not Rhaegar.

He pulled back, staring at the dragons, "I never thought dragons would exist again."

"No one did," Varys chirped.

Jon Snow looked at me, "The people who follow you know that you and your sister made something impossible happen. Maybe that helps them believe that you can make other impossible things happen. Build a world that's different from the shit one they've always known." He glanced at the dragons, "But if you use them to melt castles and burn cities, you're no different." He looked me in the eyes, "You're just more of the same."

Comprehending his words, I stared at the dragons. I allowed Cersei to have a sense of victory, it is now time to show her what I am capable of. However, I will not take the dragons and destroy the Red Keep like Aegon did to Harrenhal. House Hoare was a violent House that caused trouble to the Rivermen being Ironborn. The Castle filled with the family and loyalists. As legends said, Aegon gave the servants a chance to escape. Then I thought of one of Aegon's Conquest. The Field of Fire. I did promise Lady Olenna I will reclaim Highgarden.

I turned to Ser Barristan and Missandei, "Ensure that the Dothraki are ready to sail to the mainland. It's time to show the Lannister army what they are dealing with and take back Highgarden."

Ser Barristan nodded in understanding. We are still keeping the war away from innocent people. But it's time to show Cersei what will happen if I unleash the dragons on King's Landing. Also, to raid like a Dothraki scream.

Varys informed me that a journey from the shores towards Blackwater Rush will take a week or two on the route we were taking. Knowing the Dothraki, it will be a week. We will meet the Lannister Army on the border between the Reach and the Crownlands by the river rush. We will take back the provisions of the harvest that was stolen from the Tyrells and reclaim Highgarden. As we make the arrangements, Missandei will be in charge of Dragonstone with a quarter of the Dothraki on the Island with Kovarro.

On the day we were leaving, I put on my armor and secured my weapons. I stopped holding my helmet, it was a cross between a close helm and the unsullied helm. As the visor was shaped like the Unsullied leaving the eyes open along with the comb though shorter, on the sides, were details that took the shape of dragon wings, it doesn't stick out like a decorative helm, but it showed my character. Once I had my pack and satchel secured, I walked to the field with Daenerys who wore her winter coat, with a leather vest over it for protection.

"Alysanne, about what happen earlier…" She started.

"Don't doubt me or embarrassed me like that again," I warned.

"But—"

"No, the North will have its independence, they've earned it. Also, you questioned Ser Barristan who spend the majority of his life in wars. As well as Tyrion and Varys who gathered information. We are not perfect, and I plan to get the Lannisters comfortable before striking them down."

Daenerys realized her mistake.

"I am not going to be Queen of the Ashes," I told her. "We are going to redeem House Targaryens name, and what you are suggesting will make us no better than father."

Daenerys nodded.

I walked over to her, "We will not burn the wagons, we need the supplies. We'll have the dragons burn around the soldiers. I will decide on the death toll."

Daenerys only nodded. The plan was simple, and the Dothraki are receiving the message, this will not be a blood bath. Well, as long as the enemy is not stupid enough to strike after the first trample. Nothing else to say, we got on our dragons. Viserion was wearing the saddle I'd custom made. As I took the harness strapped and secured it to the belt I wore. Drogon, unfortunately, refused to wear a saddle, and Daenerys prefers riding freestyle. Once we were ready and took off to join our armies.

* * *

**Hey guys, what did you think of this chapter.**

**Song used was My Love May Never Die, by AG ft Claire Wyndham.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	67. Chapter 67: The Battle of the Goldroad

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Language:**_

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 67: Battle of the Goldroad**

_Jon's POV_

Jon focused his attention on mining the dragonglass. His thoughts linger about the Targaryen sisters noticing that they were completely opposite from one another. Queen Alysanne was calculating and patient while Princess Daenerys was impulsive, wanting to get the job done. He questioned them for the sake of the Six Kingdoms, or Seven if Daenerys had her way. But Tyrion did mention that he should not rely on first impressions. He needed to know what others think about the sisters. However, there is only one person here who can speak the Common Tongue at the moment.

He and Ser Davos were making their way to the cave to continue their excavating. The more hands they can get on in retrieving the dragonglass, the better. So they descended down the winding staircase towards the beach.

"What do you think of her?" Ser Davos asked.

"Who?" Jon replied.

Ser Davos sighed, "I believe you know of whom I speak."

Assuming the Onion knight was referring to the Queen, the White Wolf replied, "I think she has a good heart."

"A good heart? I've noticed you staring at both sisters' good hearts."

Jon rolled his eyes, "There's no time for that."

Ser Davos gave an amused smile.

"I saw the Night King, Davos. I looked into his eyes," Jon reminded. "How many men do we have in the North to fight him? Ten thousand? Less?"

"Fewer," Ser Davos Grammarly corrected him.

"What?" Jon asked, confused.

"Speaking of a good hearts – Missandei of Naath," Ser Davos greeted.

The Naathi translator was on the steps enjoying the scenery, most importantly, checking on the Green Dragon who was flying over the ocean. Jon tried to remember the dragon's name, he believed it was Rhaegal. Missandei turned around, hearing her name, and greeted them.

"Ser Davos, Lord Snow," Missandei greeted.

"King Snow, isn't it?" Ser Davos corrected. "No, that doesn't sound right. King Jon?"

Jon rolled his eyes, sighing, "It doesn't matter."

"Forgive me, but may I ask a question?" Missandei requested.

"Of course," Jon assured.

"Your name is Jon Snow, but your father's name was Ned Stark?" she asked.

Jon nodded, "I'm a bastard."

Missandei looked at him, confused. Jon assumed it was a language barrier. Though a sensitive topic, he decided to explain his circumstances before returning to the excavation.

"My mother and father weren't married."

"Is the custom different in Naath?" Ser Davos asked.

"We don't have marriage in Naath, so the concept of a bastard doesn't exist," Missandei answered.

_I wish that idea could be used in Westeros,_ Jon thought. The only kingdom that respects Bastards is far south in Dorne.

"That sounds…liberating," Ser Davos said.

"Why did you leave your homeland?" Jon asked her.

"I was stolen away by slavers," she answered.

"I'm sorry," Jon apologized.

He now remembered the majority of Essos was corrupted by the slave trade. Naath being one of the islands to fall victim to the cruel trade.

"If I may, how did a slave-girl come to advise Alysanne Targaryen?" Ser Davos asked.

Missandei smiled, "She bought me from my master and set me free."

Jon was surprised by this.

"That was good of her," Ser Davos said. "Of course, you're serving her now, aren't you?"

"I serve my Queen because I want to serve my Queen. Because I believe in her," she said.

"And if you wanted to sail to Naath tomorrow?" Jon asked.

"Then she would give me a ship and wish me good fortune," she answered.

"You believe that?" Jon asked, a bit skeptic.

Missandei looked into his eyes, "I know it. All of us came with her from Essos, we believe in her. She's not our Queen because she's the daughter of some King we never knew. She's the Queen we chose."

Ser Davos nodded, impressed as he looked at Jon, "Will you forgive me if I switch sides?"

Jon, no doubt would have done the same if he was not King. Although there was a bit of doubt towards Alysanne, based on their encounters and conversation, they appeared to be on good terms. They've both been occupied with other matters, so they haven't discussed the terms of their alliance for after the Great War. She seemed to be determined to give the North its independence, and he appreciated that. No doubt Sansa will appreciate that too.

Suddenly the sound of the bells ringing caught their attention. They focus onto the bay spotting a lone ship sailing in. It had black sails with a golden kraken on it.

"Is that a Greyjoy ship?" Jon asked.

"Indeed," Missandei answered, as she started making her way to the beach.

Jon and Ser Davos followed, not sure which Greyjoy fleet it belongs too. Both not wanting Missandei to end up hurt or captured. As they made their way down, several Dothraki joined them. Along the beach, they saw eight men rowing in until they got close enough to the shores to push the rowboat in. Jon recognized one of the Ironborn at the very front and felt his blood boil. The man turned around facing him, it was Theon. Both Jon and Theon were surprised in seeing one another.

Theon was thin, looking different, yet the resemblance was there. The Ironborn nodded to him in greeting. Jon clenched his fist, remembering what Theon did to his family. The man he once considered his friend, his brother, and he betrayed House Stark. How Theon lead the fall of Winterfell, murdering the Master of Arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, Maester Luwin, along with two of the farmers' boys. Sansa told him that Theon helped her escape from the Boltons and informed him that Theon did not kill Bran and Rickon. Rickon, he knew was dead, unable to save his youngest brother from Ramsay during the Battle of the Bastards, and Bran…mostly dead from traveling beyond the Wall. However, before Sam and Sansa told him, he spent years thinking his two younger brothers were killed by his childhood friend.

"Jon," Theon greeted. "I didn't know you were here."

Jon couldn't speak.

Theon approach him, "S-Sansa . . . is she all right?"

Unable to hold it in anymore, Jon swung a punch striking Theon in the face before grabbing him by the collar of his coat.

"What you did for her…" Jon ground out, "is the only reason I'm not killing you."

Theon nodded, terrified by this action. Jon nodded, shoving the man he once called friend away.

"We heard your uncle attacked your fleet," Ser Davos said, changing the subject. "We thought you were dead."

"I should be," Theon agreed.

"Your sister?"

Theon took a gulp of air, "Euron has her. I came to ask the Queen to help me get her back. "

"The Queen is gone," Jon said.

"And the princess?" Theon asked.

"She went with her sister," Jon answered.

"Where did they go?" Theon asked.

**.o0o.**

_Blackwater Rush_

The Lannister Army and Tarly Army were spread-out through the Golden Road collecting the harvest from nearby cities. It was speculated that the Targaryen Sisters would attempt a siege on King's Landing, forming a barricade in order to cut off supplies for the citizens. Ser Jaime wanted to be sure the citizens had enough food when the time does come to that. Currently, his group of men were resting by the Blackwater, either recovering from a long travel of marching, fixing the wagons wheel, or double-checking the supplies. Once the wagons were secure, they'll be marching soon. It would take another day's journey before they reach the border to the Crownlands.

Although, Ser Jaime was not pleased in how the capture of Highgarden went. There was no one there other than a few dozen soldiers and the staff. Not a single Tyrell, or one of the lower houses were occupying the castle. When checking the neighboring villages of Highgarden, they discovered that they too were abandoned. It was like the Tyrell's were anticipating this and abandoned the region altogether. For the next few days, the soldiers were scavenging through the castle in search of the vault or anything of value. When the vault was finally discovered, it too was empty as well. Ser Jaime knew Cersei would not like this. He doubts the objects they found of value would be able to cover a third of the remaining debt.

Either way, he just wanted to return back to King's Landing despite having to deal with Cersei. He made enough sacrifices by giving up Casterly Rock. Leaving a few hundred men to give the illusion the Lannister army remained in the city, while Euron's fleet deals with the Unsullied ships, making it so that the Unsullied would have to march back to Dragonstone. He did take extra precaution by having his cousins and kin evacuate the area in case this was a hostage takeover.

Lord Randyll Tarly trotted up toward him and Bronn.

"All the gold's safely through the gates of King's Landing," Lord Randyll reported.

_What little gold was left,_ Ser Jaime thought. "Good."

"We need to get the last of these wagons over the Blackwater Rush before nightfall. If the head of the line is ambushed, the tail end will never be able to reinforce them in time."

"Well, we are stretched a bit thin," Jaime replied.

"With your permission, flogging the stragglers has a marked effect on mobility."

_You and my father would have gotten along_, Jaime thought as he nodded though, looked at the men, "Let's give them fair warning first. These men fought well at Highgarden."

_Barely a battle,_ Lord Randyll thought but nodded trotting back to the trail.

Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn looked at each other before returning to their forces. They galloped around until spotting Lord Randyll Tarly's son Dickon, who was observing a repair of a wagon wheel. Curious in the young's man perspective of his first fight in battle, since Bronn had his first experience of a duel when he was a kid, and Jaime when squiring for Ser Barristan against the Brotherhood.

"Ser Jaime," the young man greeted.

"Rickon," Ser Jaime replied back.

The man took a deep breath, "Dickon."

Bronn laughed at the poor man's name.

Ser Jaime gave his companion a warning look before facing Dickon, "I hear you fought bravely at Highgarden. Your first battle?"

Dickon nodded.

"And?"

"It was glorious," Dickon said.

"Come on, your father's not here," Bronn encourage the boy.

Dickon sighed, "All my life, we've been pledged to House Tyrell. I knew some of those men. I hunted with them with the Tyrell brothers."

"They didn't deserve to die. But Lady Olenna and Lord Willas chose to betray their Queen and support the Targaryen sisters. So here we are," Ser Jaime assured.

Dickon nodded, comprehending his words. Although the words slipped out of, "I didn't expect it to smell like that."

"Men shit themselves when they die," Bronn confirmed casually. "Didn't they teach you that at fancy lad school? Well, I learned it when I was five."

Bronn sighed from the memory when something caught his ear. The horses were neighing, but there was a thumbing, comparing the sound a few years ago at the Battle of the Green Fork, the sound of a cavalry charge off in the distance.

"What?" Jaime asked.

"Listen," Bronn instructed.

All three men paused, hearing the distant sound of hoofbeats approaching. Ser Jaime looked over his shoulder where there was a vast valley hill, also hearing the sounds of what could be described as battle screaming. Cursing he galloped away ordering both armies to get their spears and shields. Immediately everyone scrambled to grab their spears and shields, getting into formation to protect the cargo. He rode along with Ser Bronn telling the men to get in line and Lord Randyll telling his archers to get their bows. Dickon wasn't sure what was going on, as he followed his father in relaying the message. The Lannister soldiers took their kite shields, securing them on the ground, while the spearmen placed the spear between each shield man and the swordsmen and archers right behind.

The sound of shrieking and galloping grew louder, and the army was ready. On top of the hill, they can almost see a line or horses. Like a tear in a waterskin, the Dothraki came pouring down the hill.

The massive size of the Dothraki horde baffled the soldiers. Yet they stood their ground as Lord Randyll gave the order for spears to be out.

Bronn returned to Ser Jaime, "Get back to King's Landing."

"I'm not abandoning my army," Ser Jaime said.

"You're the commander, not a damn infantryman. Those fuckers are about to swamp us." Bronn reminded.

"We can hold them off," Ser Jaime assured.

The Lannister Army is the greatest in the Westerland along with the Tarly Army from the Reach. The two best armies against the Dothraki, a bunch of savages with no order or discipline, what could go wrong? That is until there were two sets of what sounded like a roar. A sound that was far greater than a lion or a lizard-lion. As both their eyes turn to the sky, where two dragons swooped down out of the clouds above the Dothraki. One black while the other was gold.

Daenerys turned her head to glance at her sister. The plan was to limit the amount of damages and keep as many prisoners as possible. The Dothraki are aware to not kill those who are not attacking back. She looked at Alysanne clad in her black armor, that conflicted with Viserion's scale. The helmet blocked Alysanne face who stared back at her sister, she had Viserion move closer to the enemy line, as she spoke the ancient language, "_Dracarys_!" Viserion breathed fire in a straight line, burning the Lannister soldiers in its wake. The flames consuming them in seconds, almost burning the men into dust. Those in armor, scream in agony, trying to escape the flames before being burned alive until falling to their knees before death claimed them.

Dickon, who barely missed the deadly flames, eyes widens in horror.

Not long after, the Dothraki used the fire as a distraction breaking through the open defenses. Some of the archers and spearmen near the area started to flee. Others remained. Ser Jaime recovering from his shock, ordered the men to hold the line. However, the chaos continued, as the Dothraki on their horses charged in, using the masses of the horses' weight to trample the kite shields. Some of the soldiers started stabbing their way, yet the Dothraki, sacrificing their riding companion, jumped over and started attacking the shield and spearmen from behind.

The horde swarmed in, breaking the defenses. It wasn't long before artillery fire of arrows filled the sky. Daenerys, seeing the archers, had Drogon breath fire near them to feel the heat in order to distract the archers. Drogon soared up to gain more altitude for another sweeping attack. Ser Jaime saw this as an opportunity, calling the archers together to aim at the black dragon, Drogon turned, returning to the battle, when Ser Jaime told them to fire. Arrows flew towards Daenerys, as she quickly adjusted Drogon to shield himself by using his chest that had plated scales. Viserion appeared from the sky, as Alysanne ordered Viserion to breathe fire behind the enemy line, trapping the men from escaping so quickly. Viserion's fire was more controlled and direct like the rays of the sun. Although there were some casualties of soldiers who were too close to the flames.

Ser Jaime's eyes widen, getting a better view of the Black Knight, for a moment he thought he was staring at Rhaegar in his joust. But Jaime knew Rhaegar was dead. He couldn't tell which of the Targaryen sisters were on which each dragon, but he assumed the one in the armor was Alysanne. The last time the Knight saw the Princess was when she was three years old running around with her figurine dragon. And now here she was riding a dragon in resemblance to the Late Crown Prince.

"Qyburn's scorpion is over there," Ser Jaime gestured to Bronn.

"Go get it, then," Bronn said.

"I can't shoot with one hand," Ser Jaime said, lifting the golden hand.

Bronn groaned, rolling his eyes, before forcing his horse through the madness. A dozen Dothraki charged at Ser Jaime. Pulling out Widow's Wail, he fought his way through the enemy. One Dothraki with two arakh charged forward. Their blades clashed, until they locked, both tried to break it, when a blade punctured through the rider, and being pushed off revealing Dickon. Ser Jaime nodded in gratitude.

Meanwhile, Ser Bronn had his horse gallop through the madness to reach Qyburn's Scorpion. Another Dothraki charged towards Bronn with his arakh. Bronn raised his sword to strike the barbarian, except the Dothraki leaned to the horses' side swinging his curved blade to amputate Bronn's horse's leg. The brown horse neighed in agony collapsing to the ground, unable to walk. Bronn was tossed across the field, he groaned in pained, looking up seeing his sack of gold on the ground. He glanced at the gold and then the Scorpion, before going back to the ground.

Cursing himself on the decision, as the Dothraki returned. He valued his life and started to run towards the Scorpion. It was hectic, the smoke and fire all around, men who were caught in the blaze screaming in agony. Bronn picked up a sword from a dead man, slashing at another Dothraki fighter on the ground. He looked up, seeing the Viserion flying overhead. He ducked under a wagon as flames came pouring down. Rolling out of the dirt, his opponent a moment ago charged. The Sellsword ran, reaching the caravan where the Scorpion was. Quickly he put a bolt in and stood at the end. The moment the Dothraki opened the tarp, he was shot through the chest and penetrated to the next wagon over.

Bronn sighed in relief, before assembling the Scorpion to full compacity. "Where are you?"

Tyrion walked up to the hill with Ser Barristan and several of the Dothraki generals. All around he saw the Dothraki attacking soldiers that were where fighting back. Those who weren't were being corralled like sheep. The cargo remained untouched except several that caught fire due to the winds.

"**Your people can't fight**," Qhono said.

Even though Ser Barristan and Tyrion did not understand what the bloodrider said, they could guess what he meant. Tyrion watched the chaos, or what could be described as controlled chaos. As Ser Barristan had informed him, the Targaryen sisters don't kill all. Their armies never attack women, children, elderly, or soldiers who do not fight back. It's a waste of life to kill a soldier who has surrendered. Even with the Dothraki, who usually kill for sport, they were trying to please their Khaleesi. In the midst of the chaos, Tyrion spotted his brother Jaime who was also evaluating the situation. Viserion took to the sky; meanwhile, Drogon was soaring in with a mighty roar before breathing fire on the field. A dozen Lannister soldiers were unable to escape the flames as they turn into ash.

Bronn had Drogon and Daenerys in his sight. Pulling the lever, he fired the spear at the moving target. The arrow passing by but almost struck Daenerys by three feet. She scowled, turning her direction towards the source of the weapon. Tyrion and Ser Barristan eyes widen, seeing what was happening as Drogon was making his way to the Scorpion. Daenerys yelled _Dracarys_ to eliminate the possible threat. Just before the flames erupted from his throat, Bronn fired, striking the black beast in the shoulder. Drogon yelped, losing his bearings. Daenerys held on tight, trying to not fall off of Drogon's back as she attempted to reconnect with Drogon, she too felt Drogon's pain due to the spell. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. Casting the spell again, taking the strain from Drogon, the dragon caught his bearings and hovered over the Scorpion. Daenerys glared at Bronn, who immediately jumped out of the way as Drogon breathed fire on the weapon. The beast landed using his tail to destroy the ballistic.

Viserion appeared, as Alysanne witnessed Drogon fall she feared that the events of Rhaenys and Meraxes were repeating itself. Fortunately, Drogon recovered just in time. Alysanne looked around, trying to see where any of the generals were. She was trying to keep a perimeter to block the enemy from leaving as Viserion breathed half-circle trapping the Lannister soldiers.

Tyrion sighed in relief, though his eyes watched Daenerys getting off Drogon to remove the spear. He also saw that his brother a few hundred feet is watching this.

"Flee, you idiot," Tyrion muttered.

"Don't do it," Ser Barristan whispered, knowing Ser Jaime was once his squire when joining the Kingsguard.

"Come on, boy. Come on!" Ser Jaime told his gallop.

The horse ran fast, as Ser Jaime grabbed the spear that was stuck in a corpse. Grabbing hold, he held the spear like a lance aiming for his target. Daenerys heard hoofbeats, turning around discovering his approach. Before she could react, Viserion landed in front of Drogon blocking the Kingslayer's view. Ser Jaime's eyes widen seeing the Black Knight before Viserion opened his mouth and breathed fire. Everything happened so fast, as a ball of fire came in his direction and then he was tossed into the river. The weight of his armor dragging him deep into the watery abyss.

**.o0o.**

Ser Jaime gasped for air as he was being dragged out of the Blackwater Rush. Ser Bronn had dragged his companion out of the water, after a tedious job of pulling the Kingslayer through the current putting distance between them and the dragons. It was a split-second decision to risk his life for a damn Lannister again. They reached the shore panting for breath or vomiting water. Overhead they could see smoke from the battle.

Ser Jaime turned to his back with labors pants, "You could've killed me."

Bronn gave him a look as he leaned upon his arms, "The fuck was you doing back there?"

"Ending the war," the Kingslayer replied. "Killing her."

"You saw the dragons between you and her?" Bronn asked sarcastically. "And?"

Ser Jaime sat up, grunting in pain, fully comprehending the situation. He thought if he killed the Princess, then the battle will be over or could distract the Dragon Queen to come down. However, he faced death in the face. He faced a ghost of a man who was his friend as an adolescent. However, Rhaegar was dead, and behind that dragon helm was Alysanne. He tried to imagine what the Princess looked like, except time had passed quickly, and all he saw was fire.

"Listen to me, cunt," Bronn snapped him out of his trance by poking him hard. "Till I get what I'm owed, a dragon doesn't get to kill you, you don't get to kill you, only I get to kill you."

"That was two of them," Ser Jaime thought aloud. "They have one more. If they decide to really use them…"

"You're fucked," Bronn finished the sentence.

"Don't you mean we're fucked?" Ser Jaime corrected.

"No, I do not." Bronn sarcastically replied. "Dragons are where our partnership ends. I'm not gonna be around when those things start spitting fire on King's Landing."

Ser Jaime sighed, watching the smoke, "I have to tell Cersei."

Bronn scoffed, patting his friend on the back, "May as well jump back in that river."

Ser Jaime continues to comprehend what happened. The ghost of his past ringing in his head. Let alone having to report more terrible news to his sisters. At this point, it is best to surrender and beg for mercy. Or at least he and Cersei could flee Westeros and start over in Essos. Because right now, the Targaryens and the Lannisters were at war, all because he stabbed the Mad King and Tywin sacked King's Landing and slaughtered Rhaegar's family.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV._

The battle was over as the Dothraki gathered the prisoners towards a cluster of boulders on a hill. The adrenaline rushing through my veins; however, the damage of dragon fire was emanated as flames consumed the deceased soldiers' corpses. The Dothraki did their best to kill only soldiers who dare attack them. Although, some of the Lannister and Tarly forces fled where the horde couldn't reach. Doesn't matter, they will send word in what happen here.

I got off of Viserion and walked over to Daenerys checking on her condition. She appeared fine, a bit startled from what that soldier had attempted to do. A foolish cliché, of the Knight slaying the dragon. Drogon would have burned him, except my impulse connected to Viserion had the golden dragon land in between and breathe fire. I doubt the Knight is dead, for I thought I saw another soldier rushed in on a horse and leaped over falling into the rush.

"Are you hurt?" I asked to be sure.

"I am fine," Daenerys answered.

I sighed in relief and turned to Drogon, "A nice goat for you when we get back."

Drogon nodded, while Viserion came over, licking his brother's wound. A ballistic. I have seen catapult and trebuchets, but I've never seen a ballistic weapon that can fire spears. Doubt the weapon is in use now, thinking it was destroyed. However, we need to work on that or see if he can make armor for the dragons. Yes, their scales are durable to that of a shield, except there are parts of the body that is still skin.

Once the prisoners were all gathered, Viserion and Drogon stood on each side looking at the enemy forces. We stepped on a boulder along with Ser Barristan and Tyrion who climbed his way up. Removing my helmet, I exposed myself, as the men eyes widen seeing the Black Knight was actually a woman, even though my hair was braided back. These men were merely pawns, following their Liege Lords orders. I will not punish them; however, their generals will face justice.

"I know what Cersei has told you," I said. "That I've come to destroy your cities, burn down your homes, murder you, and orphan your children. That's Cersei Lannister, not me. For this was not how I wanted to meet you all. I'm not here to murder, and all I want is to prepare you all for a greater threat. You all have fought valiantly, so I offer you a choice – bend the knee and join me. Together, we will leave the world a better place than we found it. Or refuse…and face the Queen's Justice."

I will show mercy this time.

Hundreds of soldiers bend the knee. Many stood until Drogon roared, which about three-fourths of the remaining bend the knee. I looked at the crowd until spotting two men whose armors were not of the Lannister set. One being a lean and balding man with a short, bristly grey beard. Next to him was a fitted young man, taller holding some resemblance to the other.

Ser Barristan came over as he whispered in my ear, "That is Lord Randyll Tarly."

"Thank you," I whispered to him and looked at the Lord of Hornhill. "Step forward, my lord."

The older man did so.

"You will not kneel?" I asked.

"I already have a Queen," Lord Randyll.

"My sister," Tyrion said. "She wasn't your Queen until recently, though, was she? When she murdered your rightful Queen and destroyed House Tyrell for all time. So, it appears your allegiance is somewhat flexible."

"There are no easy choices in war," Lord Randyll said. "Say what you will about your sister, she was born in Westeros. She's lived here all her life. You, on the other hand, murdered your own father and chose to support a foreign invader. One with no notes to this land…" he said then looked at me, "With an army of savages at her back."

"I was born in Westeros, spent the first four years of my life in King's Landing and Dragonstone. I am a Westerosi as are you, Lord Tarly. Ser Willem Darry praised you when you fought for my family during the Rebellion, being the only man to defeat Robert Baratheon and his forces at the Battle of Ashford. Cutting down Lord Cafferen during the battle." I said, looking into his eyes. "We did what we can to survive and return home."

"I will not bend the knee to you," Lord Randyll sneered.

"You will not trade your honor for your life. I respect that," I said.

"Perhaps he could take the Black, Your Grace," Tyrion suggested. "Whatever else he is, he is a true soldier. He'd be invaluable at the Wall."

King Snow did mention that the Night's Watch was low on men.

"You cannot send me to the Wall. You are not my Queen," Lord Randyll argued.

He was choosing death rather than serve a cause. Qhono and Aggo came over to collect Lord Randyll. Suddenly the man who stood next to him stepped forward.

"You will have to kill me, too," the man said.

Lord Randyll pulled away from his captors, furious at the young man, "Step back and shut your mouth."

"Who are you?" I asked the young man.

"A stupid boy," Lord Randyll answered.

"I am Dickon Tarly, son of Randyll Tarly." The young man introduced himself.

"You are the future of your House. This war was already tarnished one great House from the world." Tyrion advised him. "Don't let it happen again. Bend the knee."

Dickon looked at his father, who pleaded him to do so. "I will not."

Tyrion turned to me, "Your Grace, nothing scrubs bold notions from a man's head like a few weeks in a dark cell."

Daenerys came over, 'They made their choice. It's best we execute them. We're not here to put men in chains. If that became an option, many would take it. You gave them a choice. They made it."

Suddenly a vision crossed of my eyes seeing Father sitting on the Iron Throne. Across from him were two men, in Northern attire with a Stark pin strapped to their tunics. The eldest man chained as his body dangle over a pit of wildfire. Across from him a younger man, his neck strapped to a torture device with a longsword across from him. The older man being burned alive as his son tried to reach for the blade being strangled, trying to save his father. Meanwhile, Father sat on the Iron Throne, watching their execution with pride.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan called out placing a hand on my shoulder snapping me out from that memory.

I gasped, not knowing where that vision came from but realized I was in that situation of a father and son. King Aerys the Second executed the duo most horrendously. Now I have the same pair from a noble house who wish to die than bend the knee. Thinking about the decision, I must decide on how to present myself.

"No, death is too simple," I said, then cleared my throat addressing the two Tarlys. "Both of you have deserted your liege House, betraying Lord Willas Tyrell and his family. I deem it appropriate for the Warden of the Reach to decide your fate. Until the decision is made, you shall be my prisoners. I may find some use in you until then."

Tyrion sighed in relief as Ser Barristan nodded in approval. Daenerys didn't like my decision but kept her mouth shut and masked her disappointment. Drogon and Viserion roared, before breathing fire into the air, intimidating any of the Lords and soldiers who remain standing to bend the knee. Those who didn't were taken into custody, as the generals were arrested.

I am not my father. I will not burn men alive to make an example. I will not execute a father and his son to make an example. Having these generals can be useful in bargaining, or when they come to see reason, for the Long Night. I will need as many skilled tacticians and strategists against the Army of the Dead. Also, remembering what Ser Barristan said, the best way to give justice is through mercy. The soldiers may have chosen to be in this trade, but they did not choose the war.

**.o0o.**

_A few days later_

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah gazed upon the shores of Dragonstone seeing Rhaegal flying around the castle. It was a long journey for him since his second exile. One that was about redemption, especially when he contracted Greyscale. And now here he was, approaching one of the three Valyrian colony islands. The original territory for House Targaryen. The closer he got, the tighter his stomach felt in anticipation of seeing Alysanne again. So many questions stirring in his head over what happened in the Veil. Does Alysanne remember or was it a mere dream that she quickly forgotten.

So many thoughts, as he adjusted the tiller on the sails of the small sailboat. Securing the sail against the early winter winds. At least the day and a half journey through Blackwater Bay were peaceful, not having Tyrion talking his ear off. Jorah snorted at the thought. The reunion is something to think about, no doubt the dwarf will be drinking wine.

Thinking about the reunions, he wonders how it will go. Daenerys being most welcoming since she ordered him to find the cure. Missandei a simple greeting. Grey Worm and Ser Barristan might be the ones that will be filled with caution. No doubt Ser Barristan will keep a closer eye on him, even though Jorah will never betray the sisters again. One reunion he was terrified of was Alysanne's. Will she welcome him back has a friend, a general, or lover still.

It wasn't long when his boat reached the shores of Dragonstone under the cliffs. Stepping out, he secured and anchored the boat, before grabbing his satchel and sword. All of his belonging from his life in Essos was either given to Alysanne or destroyed due to the contamination of Greyscale. All he had left was the clothes on his back and his sword. His armor from the Pit was left behind in Meereen, therefore his only protection was a gambeson that the Citadel provided.

He took a deep breath, making his way up to the castle. Just as he reaches the trail, he was met with several arakh. His blue eyes widen to find the Dothraki patrolling. One Dothraki paused, lowering his blade.

**"Jorah the Andal?"** the Dothraki asked.

**"Kovarro,"** Jorah replied back.

Kovarro smiled as he told the other Dothraki to lower their weapon, "**He is Blood of Blood to Khaleesi and the Dragon Queen."**

The men nodded.

Jorah nodded appreciating to have Kovarro here, or it would have been an awkward conversation. The sound of screeching caught the men's attention looking up to see Drogon and Viserion flying over them. Jorah squinted his eyes, seeing Daenerys riding on Drogon, baffled at the creature's size. His eyes then turned to Viserion who has grown as well. On his back, was a rider clad in black armor. Only one person was allowed to ride Viserion, and Jorah took a deep breath. Seeing a repeat in the history of Aegon the Conqueror. This was the first time seeing her strong and battle-ready. It happened so fast, as the dragons flew by, unaware of the gathering below.

**"Come, let's go see Khaleesi and sister**," Kovarro said.

Jorah nodded nervously beyond belief.

* * *

**Can you guess what the next chapter will be?**

**You all have been waiting for it.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	68. Chapter 68: Bear, My Sweet Bear

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Warning: This Chapter is rated M for Sexual Content**_

* * *

**Chapter 68: Bear, My Sweet Bear...**

_Dragonstone_

Jon was standing on the cliffs watching the lone green dragon soar through the skies. The biggest dragon of black scales and the golden one had flown west to Westeros to retake Highgarden. A part of him wonders how Queen Alysanne will address the men who surrender. His thoughts linger back to the Battle of the Bastards. Not his proudest moment, one he will have to take to his grave. Unable to save his youngest brother, Rickon. When faced with the children of House Umber and House Karstark, he had a choice to punished them for their father's crimes of betraying House Stark. Instead, he had them bend the knee, address their fealty, and give them a second chance. Will the Dragon Queen have the same mercy as him?

The White Wolf sighed, fearing in what is happening in the Reach. A Field of Fire, Ser Davos called it on repeat. A land of flammable greenery that could quickly burn in mere seconds. He crossed paths with Lady Olenna, who was pleased when the Queen took her army West to reclaim what was her grandsons' home. Also, obtain the harvest that was stolen. The North was a seasonal land, it can't grow every vegetable the entire year. The North relied on root vegetables, wild berries, and animals. When he ate some dishes here during his stay, he tasted herbs and spices he never tasted before. Even given a fruit that doesn't even grow in Westeros. So, a cultural difference indeed, not from the South, but from the east.

Either way, his goal is still continuing as is. He has Queen Alysanne on his side, with the support of her Unsullied Army, her navy, and her dragon, along with the dragonglass. Daenerys, on the other hand, is someone he truly needs to convince since the Princess has the most massive forces. The more forces they have, the higher chance of survival. A hundred thousand Dothraki screamers can even the score. Deciding it was best to check on the mines, he turns to head back.

Just as he was walking, the green dragon swooped down and almost knocked him over. Jon hated that, as he glared at the dragon who landed before him. He recalled the green one's name was Rhaegal, named after Prince Rhaegar. Rhaegal crawled closer to Jon, sniffing the air around him. Jon was hesitant, not sure what to do as Rhaegal lips curled revealing its teeth. Curious, though cautious, Jon removed his glove and slowly stretched his hand out, shaking to the core. Rhaegal stepped closer, sniffing his hand till the snarling stopped. Jon took it as a good sign and placed his hand on the dragon's nose. It felt like scaly patches of leather, warm and cold at the same time.

Jon was amazed, petting a dragon for the first time. As he continues to pet Rhaegal, he stared into the dragon's yellow eyes. Sensing a connection, the same with Ghost.

Two loud thuds broke the connection, as both man and dragon turned their head to see Drogon and Viserion landing. The massive black dragon kneels down, allowing his rider to step off. Daenerys, who witnessed the two bonding was impressed. Rhaegal has always been a stubborn dragon, then again, he was still considered a wild dragon without a rider. Meanwhile, Alysanne who remained on Viserion, her face was masked from her helm. So many thoughts were running through her head since Rhaegal might have bonded with Jon Snow. Making her theory about Jon's parentage even more severe, since only those with Valyrian blood of the dragonlords can imprint with a dragon. Overwhelmed, she took Viserion into the sky, wanting to clear her head.

Daenerys noticed this, though thought the reason for her sister's departure was the stress from the Battle of the Goldroad. After the Lannister and Tarly Armies surrendered, they went over the injured and the casualties. Over a two hundred men died, for this group that was transporting cargo from the harvest. They stayed to give the fallen a proper burial. Sighing, Daenerys walked over to Jon and watched the three dragons fly.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She asked.

"It wasn't the word I was thinking of, but…but, yes, they are." He answered. "Gorgeous beasts."

"They're not beasts to me," Daenerys said. "No matter how big they get or how terrifying to everyone else thinks they are, they're my children."

Jon thought she had lost her mind. When he got Ghost, he didn't see the runt of the pack as his son. No, he thought of Ghost as his friend. His brother. But to compare an animal to a personal child …didn't seem right.

"You weren't gone long," Jon noted.

"No," she said, with a disappointed look.

"And?"

She looked at him, "And we have fewer enemies today then we did yesterday. If not more prisoners."

Jon didn't know how to respond to that comment. Debating on whether or not to ask her on the details. If it were Daenerys's way, there would have been more casualties and execution towards those who refused to bend the knee.

"You're not sure how you feel about that," Daenerys murmured.

"No, I'm not," he said.

"How many men did your army kill taking Winterfell from the Boltons?" She asked as she started to walk.

Jon followed her, "Thousands."

"We both want to help people. We can only help them from a position of strength. Sometimes strength is terrible," She said and looked at him. "When you first came here, Ser Davos said you took a knife in the heart for your people."

"Ser Davos gets carried away," Jon lied.

"So, it was a figure of speech?" She murmured.

Jon sighed, shaking his head until hearing footsteps approaching. They both turned to see four Dothraki riders escorting an Andal. Kovarro, who had earlier caught this man couldn't help but smile. The intruder being a familiar face of the Khalasar.

"**An old friend has returned, Khaleesi,"** Kovarro said, as he stepped aside revealing none other than Ser Jorah Mormont.

Daenerys composure changed as she rushed to see her dear friend. The last time she saw Ser Jorah was back in Vaes Dothrak. She had ordered him to find the cure and return to them. To return to their family. Having forgiven him of his betrayal, and knowing how vital the Knight was. The man who she saw as a father figure. Jon observed her behavior, noticing the change in personality.

**"Indeed, a dear old friend,"** Daenerys replied.

Ser Jorah came forward bending the knee, "Your Highness."

He then stood up, noticing the Khaleesi had company. Jorah's eyes slightly widen as he prevented a scowl from showing. Looking at the man who had Rhaegar's face, except darker hair and eyes, and facial hair. The memory of Rhaegar in the Veil was still fresh in his mind.

"Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend," Daenerys introduced.

"I served with your father," Jon said. "He was a great man."

"You look strong. You found a cure?" Daenerys asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," Jorah answered.

Daenerys nodded with a smile as she walked over to give him a hug. Jorah returned the embrace in a fatherly way. When they pulled back, a screech could be heard, catching everyone's attention to Viserion who landed. Daenerys couldn't help but smile, curious in where this reunion will go. Jorah took a deep breath, knowing it was Alysanne as she climbed down from Viserion. She walked over to the small gathering and stood in front of them as she removed her helmet. Daenerys being considerate, took hold imagining the outcome. Although her sister's face was neutral.

"Ser Jorah," Alysanne addressed to him.

"My Queen," Jorah replied with a bow, bending the knee. "I return to your service, my Queen, if you'll have me."

Blue and indigo eyes locked to one another. Daenerys was confused as were the others in the group. Why wasn't Alysanne accepting Ser Jorah immediately? She thought her sister loved Ser Jorah. Slowly, the Dragon Queen removed her gloves and a gauntlet from her right hand, and cradled Ser Jorah's cheek.

"It would be my honor," Alysanne murmured.

Ser Jorah gave a sigh of relief. Before he could even stand, she knelt down, hugging him dearly. The Knight suppressed a groan, his scars still tender as her armor pressed into his body, despite the gambeson covering him. Still, his arms immediately wrapped around her, cherishing her embrace. He had countless dreams of holding his paramour and Queen in his arms again, and finally he was holding, it wasn't just a dream. Despite the opportunity in the Veil and the chaste touch after the Great Games, it had been over a year since they have physically touched.

Jon observed this, wondering if there was something more between them or not. He recalled the time when his father sailed to Bear Island to execute Ser Jorah on selling poachers as slaves. A crime that cannot be forgiven. The same man who disappointed the previous Lord Commander. He was curious in knowing the story but remained quiet thinking it was best to ask later.

Alysanne stood up, offering him a hand which Jorah accepted.

"It has been a long day," Alysanne said.

Before Jorah could respond, Alysanne collected her helm and headed back to the castle. The Knight stood there, not sure what happened. Then again, it will take more than appearing out of nowhere to regain her trust. He already prepared himself for rejection, for his goal was to be by her side. Daenerys walked over, patting his shoulder.

"Give her time," Daenerys murmured.

Ser Jorah nodded.

His attention turning back to Alysanne.

Something happened. He saw it in her eyes, the same look she had when receiving a vision or a nightmare. Doubting Daenerys knew the lengths of her sister's visions, he kept it to himself. He will ask Alysanne when he has the opportunity.

"It's getting late," Daenerys said. "Let's go inside and rest."

It was the afternoon, yet many were exhausted from the long travel. Jorah and Jon nodded as they went towards the castle with the Dothraki. When Jorah asked who else was here, Daenerys informed him that Missandei and Varys were on the island, Tyrion and Ser Barristan were leading the Dothraki back to Dragonstone, along with Aggo who has learned Common Tongue as their translator. Grey Worm and the Unsullied were marching forward to the Twin's to siege the Freys and hopefully rescue Edmure Tully to get the Riverlands on their side. Jorah nodded, seeing the Campaign was on track.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I was overwhelmed, and things keep adding onto it. When I returned to Dragonstone and saw Rhaegal, the wild dragon who will growl at anyone who approaches him without a treat or been there since he was a hatchling. Rhaegal simply came over to Jon Snow and allowed the White Wolf to pet him as Visenya whispered in my ear that they were bonding. I don't know if this confirms my theory, especially the coincidence that is was Rhaegal being named after my brother. However, dragons can only bond with those of Valyrian descent. Most prominently, descended from the Dragonlords and Dragonriders.

Needing to clear my head, after purging and cremating the dead and being tormented from the vision, I took to the sky. Viserion flew around when, suddenly, I felt this strange pull. Looking down from the sky, I noticed Daenerys and King Snow with the Dothraki talking, but there was a man in the party dressed in Westerosi attire. So, when Viserion landed, and I joined the group, I was shocked to see Ser Jorah. Many emotions were swirling in my head, that I basically shut down. Not sure how to respond.

All I could do is accept him and hugged him, confirming that he was real. Not questioning if he had Greyscale or not since he was here. He wouldn't be here if he weren't cured. In the end, I headed inside needing a moment. I was just overwhelmed; everything was happening so fast. However, before I can even hide in my cave, I went to find Lady Olenna. Knowing the Queen of Thorns, I headed to Aegon's Garden.

It wasn't long before I found the Matriarch of House Tyrell sitting on a bench watching the scenery with her little birds. The ladies in waiting were sewing until looking up at me surprised and turned to their Lady. Lady Olenna turned her head and started.

"So…" she greeted.

"We intercepted the harvest trade and secured Highgarden," I announced. "Unfortunately, we were not able to stop the wagons that had property of value."

"Valuables can be replaced," Lady Olenna assured. "The fact you collected the harvest and secured my grandson's home is all that matters."

"You can send a raven to Lord Willas," I told her. "I have Lord Randyll Tarly and his son in my custody."

"You didn't execute them?" She asked, surprised.

I shook my head, "I figure it was best that the Warden of the Reach punish their vassal traitors. Unless I see some use in them."

Lady Olenna nodded.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, and departed making my way back to my chamber.

There Missandei waited, as she helped me out of my armor, removed the braid. She felt my hair and noticed it was somewhat oily.

"Shall I draw a bath tonight, your grace?" Missandei asked.

"Yes, I'd very much appreciate it," I answered.

"Also, dinner taken up to your chambers?" She offered.

I simply nodded.

Once Missandei was done with my hair, she helped me into casual wear before leaving to help Daenerys. Securing my robe, I walked over to the balcony watching the horizon. Watching Viserion, Rhaegal, and Drogon hunting about catching large fish.

_'You're avoiding him,_' Visenya murmured.

_'You're right,'_ I confessed.

_'You're afraid_.' She noted_. 'Not sure that the Veil was real, if he was truly there, and the possible future. You had prepared yourself that he was dead and now he comes back to you.'_

_'I don't want to be betrayed again…or lose him,'_ I sighed. _'If I let him in…I can never let him go.'_

_'You made a promise to yourself, that you will only marry for love. Yes, he is an exiled man, relinquishing his claim on Bear Island, but he has sworn himself to you.'_ She murmured. _'You are a dragon of fire, and he is a bear of ice. If you think about it, your union with Ser Jorah can begin the process of having the North return to the Seven Kingdoms."_

I blushed never thinking about that.

_'However, there are so many emotions you need to get off your chest,_' She added. _'When Aegon put so much attention to Rhaenys, I felt so much anger, distracting myself with the conquest. When my sweet sister died, the wounds were ripped open again until Aegon and I talked. A dragon who holds much of his or her emotions within themselves is a dangerous creature.'_

I took a deep breath, knowing she was right. I have been distracting myself trying to avoid the emotions of loss and heartbreak. Even though I have forgiven Jorah for betraying me, the emotions still linger. Also, with all that has happened, I need to get stuff off my chest. Visenya has helped to grasp the events that transpired, but…Jorah knew better. Tonight. I will talk to him tonight.

I walked over to the chest where the dragon eggs were kept. I picked up the blue egg tracing the patterns. Gods give me strength.

**.o0o.**

Dragonstone had a natural hot spring. The Valyrians took advantage of that, as the Targaryens carved bathing chambers for social gathering. My Ancestor, Aenar, took a selfish approach as he made an attached bathing chamber for the Master Apartment. A pool of hot water ready, when you pull the lever. I soaked in the hot water, letting the minerals absorb themselves into my veins while my head over the edge where Missandei started washing my hair. Ever since my hair was cut short, the process of washing my hair was cut in half. I zoned out due to Missandei's touches, trying not to think about tonight's meeting with Ser Jorah.

I felt like an innocent maiden all over again with a suitor requesting for an appointment. However, I was the one who requested Ser Jorah's presence. There were so many questions I want to ask, but most importantly, where does our relationship go from here? It has been over a year since I exiled him…yet he had come back twice and saved my life, only he continued his exile because of the disease.

"Missandei," I murmured.

"Yes, Your Grace," She replied.

"After the bath, you are free this evening and tomorrow as well. I will manage by myself," I told her.

She smiled softly, "As my Queen commands."

I nodded as she gave me the daily reports that I have missed during my departure. Apparently, Theon Greyjoy and three of the ships have returned. He asks that I help him rescue Yara. I scowled slightly since Yara's decision to travel by the coast instead of the Leviathan Trail has costed us her fleet. When I asked Missandei about Tyene Sand, my confidant informed me Theon doesn't know if the Sand Snake was dead or captured alive. I made a mental note to have Varys's little birds confirm this.

Once done with my bath, I dried off and changed into my chemise, Missandei excused herself for the night. Just as she opened the door, Ser Jorah was standing there about to knock. She greeted the Knight, letting him in before making her departure. I fastened my robe, staring at him, seeing him standing there in his attire almost resembling his first attire back in Pentos.

"My Queen," he greeted.

I took a deep breath, "I remember that I allow you to call me by my given name."

A small smiled graced his lips, "Alysanne."

I nodded, smiling a little almost forgetting how he said my name. We stood there, each of us on opposite sides of the room. He looked much healthier, no longer weatherworn. Seeing him here it was hard to start a conversation. Jorah seemed to have the same problem, as he opened his mouth only to close it.

"Well, this is a first," I mumbled.

Jorah nodded as he rubbed his neck.

There was so much I wanted to say, want to ask him, yet the words won't come out.

"You look better," he said.

"As do you…you found a cure?" I asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," he answered.

"Where…how?" I asked, curious, and hope to thank the person who saved him.

"At the Citadel, barely any Maesters would take my case except for an apprentice. He was willing to be expelled," he said. "An excruciating procedure."

"I hope one day, I can meet him and thank him personally," I said.

"As do I," he agreed.

I nodded, then shuddered, feeling a bit cold. Even though I have been in Westeros for over two months, maybe three now, I was still not used to the climate. Essos had longer summers, and the climate always humid except for Braavos. Now I return during the start of winter, even with the layers, I feel a bit cold. Jorah noticed this as he walked over to the fireplace and put in another log.

"You will adjust to the climate in time," he assured.

"That is easy for you to say, Bear," I jest.

Jorah smiled slightly, hearing the nickname I had given him.

I then sighed, taking a seat by the chair near the fireplace. The tension returning between us. Neither of us not sure what to say. Still finding it hard to believe he was here. Jorah, sensing this, turned to face me. The last time we were together was in Meereen, we thought was our last goodbye. Never to see each other again until the afterlife or the next life. We put our differences aside, thinking he would be dead. But here he was now. So many emotions, good and negative were stirring inside me. I want to hate him and love him, to hit him and kiss him at the same time. As if he was reading my mind, he sighs, drawing his dagger, holding it vertical across his face.

"I swear to the old gods and the new, and by the steel which I hold that I give you my fealty and pledge my loyalty," Jorah vowed, adjusting the blade that the tip was pressed against his chest and the handle towards me. "If ever I betray you again, then I ask that this steel might pierce my heart."

He bowed his head and wait. I didn't know what to do, for I was not aware of this custom. It must be a northern thing, since Ser Barristan never performed such a sacred vow, and Tyrion never mentioned it for the Westerlands and Crownlands. Perplexed by this, I stared at him. He looked up, seeing the confusion.

"Is it not enough, Alysanne?" he asked, lowering the blade. "Do you not want me anymore?

He sheathed his dagger, sadness clouding his eyes.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" He asked. "If you command it, I shall leave and serve with the Dothraki."

"Well, that's what I should do. Make you earn your rank…" I replied, placing my right hand on his chest. "But I don't want you to leave."

Jorah caressed my hand, massaging the fingers with his thumb as he looked at the conqueror ring. The charm that sealed my fate of taking back the Seven Kingdoms. As if he knew what the charm meant or had a memory of his own.

"Made out of a key," he thought aloud.

"What?" I asked.

"If I gave you a ring, it would be made from my key to Mormont Keep," Jorah murmured as he took my hand to kiss the knuckles. "Something made from my home, never out of gold with a jewel."

My eyes widen, remembering him saying that in the Veil. So, he was indeed there in the Veil. I did not dream of him there, or his spirit in death.

"Jorah…"

"I don't know if I ever will get back to Bear Island. I thought…that thought does not pain me as much as it once might have." He cradled my cheek. "You are my home now."

The tension turned into a strong pull, a string pulling us together as our eyes locked. Jorah hesitantly leaned forward as his lips pressed against mine. I gasped, only to move my lips against his. Our lips moved together, the passion rekindling after so long of being apart. His hands moved to my sides, feeling my arms and shoulders, softly yanking the robe down, along with the chemise exposing my left shoulder. Breaking the kiss, his lips traced along my neck until reaching the scar from the Pit. He kissed the scarred skin and traced his tongue along it sending shivers down my spine.

"I want you, Alysanne." He panted; his hand carefully tangled in my hair. "I want you so much, I can scarcely breathe."

His other arm wrapped around my waist pulled me closer to him. Leaning forward some that his lips barely grazed my own.

"Will you have me?" He asked.

"Yes," I answered, kissing him again. "Yes, I will have you."

Our lips clashed once more as his hands worked on the shift pulling it down to reveal my upper body, exposing my breasts. Breaking away for a moment to work on his clothes, as our hands worked on the claps for the gambeson, along with the belt. Next working on the shirt, untying the strings. He yanked it off, revealing himself. I leaned forward to kiss him, my hands feeling his side lost in the moment, until touching his skin. I pulled back, staring at the severe scarring that has consumed his entire left arm, and the upper portion of his chest and torso. Livid scars that were patched around in different shades, some in rope texture while others indented. My eyes widen, seeing how much the Greyscale had consumed. He mentioned the extent of his affliction has taken him in the Veil…but I didn't think how severe. Now looking at the scars…it was like the infected tissue was cut off.

Jorah cradled my face, pulling my attention away from his scars and back to his eyes, "I'm all right."

"Does it hurt?" I whispered.

"A bit," he confessed. "But not like the treatment."

I was going to ask him about that, except I lost my train of thought as he kissed me again. His tongue licked my lips, begging for access. I open my mouth, allowing him access as he thrust his tongue inside. Meanwhile, his hands caressed my body, his left hand moving up to cradle my cheek, while the right sliding up until between my legs rubbing my core. I gasped then moaned, rocking my hips into his hand, seeking gratification from his touches. It wasn't until he slides his finger inside me that I broke the kiss and moaned. It's been so long to feel loved like this, not being with another man since exiling him. There were times I had tried to pleasure myself, yet I obtain no satisfaction, only frustration. I moaned again as he stroked me, his thumb caressing my clitoris. He leaned down, sucking on my breast, drawing my nipple deep in his mouth. He closed his eyes, pulling me closer that I was almost off the chair. He toyed with that sacred pleasurable spot between my thighs, swiping over the pearl and gem over and over. My breaths caught to a point there was a coil in my stomach.

"Jorah," I cried.

He nipped my breast and growl softly in satisfaction as he felt me tremble in his arms. My orgasm nearly approaching. Only I don't want to be undone like this. Once I felt wet by his fingers sliding inside me with much ease, I worked on his trousers, yanking at the strings to come loose and pushing the fabric down his thighs, already he was erect. Jerking his hand out of me, I pushed him down onto the rug and straddle his waist. Not waiting any longer, I grabbed his member and guided him inside me. I gasped, his cock stretching my walls to accommodate to his size, feeling both pleasure and pain. The pain of a sharp sting, causing my eyes to water to near tears, as if I was losing my maidenhead for a second time.

"Alysanne," Jorah groaned, hands roughly grabbing my hips.

Our bodies were desperate for touch. No doubt, he had isolated himself from human contact as I have physical confinement. Our bodies needing release, not foreplay. Desperately I rocked my hips back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of me grazing the spot inside while rubbing my clitoris against his pelvic bone. My hands pressed against his chest, pushing him down restraining to the ground, unable to move. Although he moved his hips against mine, his blue eyes on me as he touched the deepest places inside me.

Still, the pent-up emotions were bursting, as my left hand went around his neck, shaping to his jaw. Meanwhile, I grabbed the dagger, forcing it out of its case and pressed the blade against his jugular. His eyes widen, body almost paralyzed while I continue to rock my hips.

"Listen to me." I panted, hissing venom. "If you ever betray me again, Jorah Mormont, I will cut your heart out and feed it to Viserion. Do you understand me?" I continued to move, tightening my grip on his neck. "Do you?"

"Aye… you have my word," he promised.

I nodded tossing the dagger aside, rocking faster against him. Jorah sat up, grabbing my wrist restraining me. He let go, placing my hand around his neck while he grabbed hold of me. His right hand groping my left breast. His thrusts becoming harder that I was losing my bearings to a point I wrapped my legs around him. Not a second later, he pulled me over his body, rolling us, so he was on top. My eyes widen as I gasped feeling him go deep. I closed my eyes as he rocked his hips, thrusting against me with increasing force. He made a sound that was almost a groan and gripped me tighter. All our pent-up emotions being expressed through our bodies. I struggled to try to grab him, except he pinned me down, hammering away, pounding to a point it was against my womb with each stroke.

I quivered and moaned, my muscles clenching in spasms against his member that battered me. Pain and pleasure rolled into one, there was nothing I could do but surrender. Accepting the assault. Beads of sweat ran down his neck as it did the same on my body. Our flesh meeting, basically smacking from each blow. My thighs trembled around his waist, trying to hold onto from each impact, trying to return the favor.

"Jorah!" I cried when he struck that spot.

Jorah grabbed my hips, changing the angle as he penetrated me harder. Over and over, striking that spot that had me gasping, until the coil in my stomach snapped and my entire body convulsed. He felt my orgasm tighten around him, groaning in near agony, as he bows his head into my neck thrusting erratically until he could not hold it any longer. He pulled out and released onto my thigh before collapsing on top of me.

We panted lost in the sensation in what has happened, the euphoric bliss rushing in our veins. Jorah moved slightly to the side, his hand caressing my neck and chest, as the haze covered his eyes. Leaning closer, I wrapped my leg over his waist and cradle his cheek. A smile lifted his lips as he took my hand and kissed it. Although the moment filled our physical needs, it doesn't resolve the issue. We prolong the discussion, merely laying there, staring at one another until our bodies recover.

Not saying a word, Jorah sat up, fixing his pants before collecting me in his arms and carried me over to the bed. Once he laid me down, he got up walking over to the bar to pour us some drinks.

"Oh, don't…I don't drink anymore." I stopped him, fixing the chemise that had gathered around my waist. Although, deciding to take it off and wipe off the semen off me.

He stopped, turning around facing me, "Because of the poisoning?"

I nodded, "I…I take a few sips now and then. But I usually wait until after someone drinks from the same pitcher or a taste tester samples it. Otherwise…I usually drink water."

Jorah nodded as he grabbed the pitcher of water. He poured two glasses as if to ease my tension although knowing one of the guards had a drink, Jorah drank from his glass assuring me the water was not tainted. He waited for a moment before bringing me the drink. I thanked him for I was parched, drinking the water desperately. Once done with the drink, he took the glass, setting it on the nightstand, and faced me. He sat down, taking my hand.

"When I saw you riding on Viserion in your armor…I thought I went back in time and saw Aegon the Conqueror," he jests.

I chuckled slightly, "Ser Barristan customized it. The armor holds some resemblance to Rhaegar's."

"I can see that," he said, staring at the armor that was in the corner. "Without the rubies."

I nodded; I didn't understand why Rhaegar put valuable gems in his armor. The awkwardness was back, knowing the discussion about the Veil will come up. Already Jorah hinted that it was no dream.

"You were truly there…in the Veil?" I asked.

"Aye," Jorah answered.

"So now you know my deepest desires," I whispered.

Jorah cradled my cheek, "It's something not to be ashamed about."

"It was something personal," I whispered. "The fact the Warlocks used it against me to steal my fire. A dream that can never be. A life without war, or claimant. A Simple Life." I looked down. "All I ever wanted was to survive, to have a husband who loves me and children of my own. I thought it would never be when Viserys took me as his wife. But Drogo killed him…and you came along…you made me feel like myself, not a Targaryen. Even before the Warlocks poisoned me, I've been plagued by similar dreams of Joren."

"Alysanne…" he murmured, lifting my chin to face him. "What do you want?"

"I don't know what I want anymore," I confessed. "Ever since being resurrected, a part of me is missing. My childhood memories of King's Landing are gone. The void turning bitter and dark on decisions and threats. My Small Council watching me like a hawk…afraid of the price that was paid. Everyone wants something from me…take the Iron Throne, Rule the Seven Kingdom, do it this way, do it that way…Fire and Blood, Mercy, constantly being challenged by Daenerys. I feel alone, being the only one who knows the truth of a more significant threat."

"You are not alone," Jorah said.

He knows my darkest secrets because the Spirits and I told him in the Veil. He knows I have visions. He knows I can communicate with the dead, as the spirits told him of Visenya. Aware of the greater threat of the Night King and the Army of the Dead.

"You had another vision," Jorah noted, as he held me in his arms.

I snuggle into his form, "The Tarlys refused to bend the knee. Dany advised I should execute them by dragon fire. I saw my father sitting on the Iron Throne watching a man being burned alive by wildfire fire while his son being unable to save him while being strangled to death."

"You saw Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark," Jorah whispered.

"Never has my visions showed the past or while I'm awake," I mumbled. "Seeing the extent of my father's madness."

"And the Tarlys?"

"They are my prisoners. Until Lord Willas decides their fate or I have use for them."

Jorah nodded as he rubbed back, though his fingers traced over the scar.

"What matters now is the Great War," I said. "Jon Snow confirmed it is all real, and we need to gather our forces for the Long Night. Already Dragonglass is being mined as we speak."

"Dragonglass?" He asked.

"Obsidian," I answered. "Tt's what kills White Walker."

Jorah nodded.

Throughout the night, we laid in bed under the candlelight, as I updated him about what has happened. I told him everything. The whole story that weighed me down, like I was drowning in a bottomless sea. All of it came pouring out of me, lifting the weight off my shoulders and bringing me to the surface. I didn't realize how badly I needed to tell someone, anyone, until that moment. He listened. He didn't understand it all, but he tried and listened carefully.

He was not pleased that Lord Varys was in my Small Council. Not that I would blame him since it was the Spider who was basically the Devil's advocate for him to betray my family. I assured Jorah I don't fully trust Varys, informing him of my promise that if Varys does betray me, I will have his head. We continue to talk, well more like I was doing the talking, getting everything off my chest. Especially when Prince Quentyn Martell gave me the secret marriage pact, of Viserys betrothal to Princess Arianne. How if Ser Willem hasn't held this information, my life would have been different. Viserys wouldn't have raped me or forced me to marry him. Assuming why I was unable to conceive or hold any of his children is because the gods forbid it, as his seeds belonged to another. Although I held back the information of what Visenya said, that I can still have children as long it is with someone who doesn't share the same blood.

My fingers traced along his chest, avoiding the scars since he told me they were still tender, although it has been weeks since they fully healed.

"Can I ask you something?" I whispered.

"Anything," he said.

"Is it me or does King Snow…hold some resemblance to my brother?" I asked.

Jorah sighed, "Aye, he does."

"In the Veil, Rhaegar said there were three dragons left in the world. Three Targaryens…Aemon Targaryen is dead…"

"Alysanne…"

"Varys told me Jon Snow was born after the sacking of King's Landing. My worst fear is that Rhaegar did the unthinkable and raped Lyanna Stark or was it foolish love? I thought his face was a coincidence since people not related can hold the resemblance. But today…Rhaegal went up to Jon Snow, and I believe they've bonded. Rhaegal doesn't allow anyone except for a handful of people to be around him. And he simply goes up to King Snow…"

"If he is your brother's son, then he would still be a bastard since Rhaegar was still married to Elia Martell. You should not worry about your claimant."

"It's not my claimant that bothers me," I said, adjusting to face him. "the Usurpers Rebellion started because Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark who was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark went South to retrieve her…and my father executed them. Starting a war. A war that could have been prevented. And now there could be a product that could cost the Seven Kingdoms to be divided."

Jorah cradled my cheek, "What's done is done. All you can do now is move forward and be a better ruler."

"Probably," I sighed, falling back into his arms.

It was getting late, but sleep was avoiding me. All that has happened in the past week, and the joys in having my lover back. Feeling somewhat whole again, having Jorah in my arms. Forgetting just this moment that I was a Queen. Despite the luxury that the bedchamber presented. Being deprived of the intimate touches, my hands wander down his torso. He grabbed my hand, wondering what I was doing. I gave an innocent smile, before sitting up properly to remove his pants and boots as we were both officially naked.

Straddling his thighs, I leaned down, kissing his chest, being careful on the sensitive ones. On occasion nipping at his skin. He groaned, shuddering under my touch until I went lower, grabbing hold of his member and taking him into my mouth. A sound of moaning, followed by a gasp, as his hand went through my hair. Never have I given him fellatio, since any attempts would be rejected as his excuse was, I was a Queen of royal blood. But this time, he allowed it, suckling while my hand massaged what could not fit. Swirling my tongue as Jorah withered under my manipulation. Just as he was about to convulse in his release, he grabbed hold of me, pulling me up to claim my lips before turning us around to be on top.

I whined in protest, which he silenced me with a kiss. Jorah chuckled against my lips, seeing how much I was ready for him. I moaned into his mouther, wanting more. My mouth opened beneath his, and he slid his tongue inside while rubbing himself against my crotch. He grasped my hips, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. I trailed my hands over his chest, and he moaned against my lips while caressing him. He returned the favor cupping my breast. I sighed, trailing my hands over his shoulders. Lost in the moment he lowers his head to flick my nipple with his tongue, and I arched my back, pressing my breast into his mouth. Drawing the peek into his mouth while his hand massaged its twin possessively. Not long after, he released my breast and turned to the other, lavishing it with similar attention.

Moving one hand, my fingers slid through his hair, clenching as he tugged on the nipple with one final nip, he kissed his way down my sternum. My body was already aroused, wanting more than his tongue.

"Jorah, I need you." I panted, withering beneath his lips.

He chuckled, the deep throaty chuckle that I love. As he kissed his way up, reaching my lips as he delved inside me. I gasped. Eyes widening as I met his gaze. The pace starts slow, deep, and steady thrust as if penetrating my soul. Gently pulling him down, kissing him lovingly, his chest pressed against my own. I relished his weight, arching against him gently as I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him deeply.

Jorah trailed his hand up and over my hips and ribs, closing his eyes as he thrust against me. I gasped at the sensation as I felt him harden inside. He groaned as he continues to rock, and I returned the same gratitude. Raising my hips to meet his own. This time we made love, gently, tenderly, savoring each other. The world vanishing around us that it was just us. Over time our bodies could not wait any longer, as he pressed his fingers on my clit, tweaking it while thrusting harder and faster. It wasn't long as we both came together. This time I kept him close instead of pulling out, feeling him release inside me.

We panted looking at one another. I cradle his cheek leaning up and languidly kissed him taking his breath, which he returns. Ser Jorah Mormont was a part of me. We were bound, even without marriage, our souls were linked. Even when I thought he was dead and tried to move on, I couldn't. Let alone, the great lengths he went through to find a cure and return to me. It came at a price in which shows on his skin. Both of us marked by the cruel world.

"I love you," I murmured.

"I love you too," he replied back.

In the end, I was his, and he was mine.

* * *

**They are finally back together.**

**Some moments are inspired by Outlander. The dagger is scene being one.**

**Thanks for reading**


	69. Chapter 69: Rekindle

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Warning: This chapter is Rated M for Sexual content.**_

_**Languages:**_

Common Tongue

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 69: Rekindle**

_Jorah's POV_

He awoke to the sounds of the ocean, as the waves crashed along the rocks along with a soft roaring of thunder. A storm was passing by. Opening his eyes, he stared at golden-white hair. Jorah realized he was spooning Alysanne as she slept. A small smile graced his lips as his thoughts linger about what happen last night. A lot was said, and it was clear Alysanne was holding back many secrets that she needed to get off her chest. No one should feel like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders. He felt honored that Alysanne trusted him with her secrets, not expecting it so soon, and thought the worst of the situation.

Things went much better than he had expected. Of course, he was met with a dagger to his neck, but he was still alive. He will forever keep his promise to her. He would rather die than betray her again. Knowing that Alysanne felt alone in this conquest, he will do what he can to support her, no matter what her decision is.

Alysanne stirred, turning her body to lay almost flat while hugging a pillow. The motion had him laying almost on top of her. A slight groan left his lips, since his member formed to the cleft of her bum. Feeling her honey pot, still wet from last night. He had to take a deep breath to control himself, not wanting to rush things.

Carefully he tried to move away until his eyes focused on the scar on her back. The long-jagged scar from her shoulder to waist. How she got that scar, he'll forever regret. Back in the Daznak Pit, when the Sons of the Harpy ambushed the Great Games in attempt to assassinate Alysanne. Both Drogon and Viserion came. Daenerys riding the black dragon to escape, distracting them all when two Harpies struck Alysanne down. Out of instinct, he leaned down kissing the scar.

Alysanne stirred, scooting back into him. Jorah debated if he should let her sleep in. They'd been up late last night, being intimate. He glanced out the balcony to estimate the time, the sky was a dark grey, the rain pouring down not showing any indication if it was early morning or not. Alysanne told him Missandei won't be attending to her for today. Wondering if his Queen intended to sleep in or something else?

"Jorah," Alysanne mumbled waking up.

Jorah secured his right arm around her waist while brushing his nose along her neck, "I'm here."

She hummed, adjusting some to see him. Unfortunately, her frame pressed further into him causing him to groan. Immediately his hold tightening, pressing firmly against her. She gasped feeling his morning erection pressed against her folds.

"Don't move," He warned, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Sadly, he made the big mistake of saying _'Don't'_ unaware of the smirk his lover held. As she deliberately rocked her hips against him. He groaned again. "Alysanne…"

"Hmm?" she replied innocently, wiggling against him.

Jorah decided she wanted this, turned her over so she was officially laying on her stomach. Wanting to get his slight revenge, he moved her hair to the side and started kissing her back. Gently nibbling the flesh and licks here and there, receiving several gasps and shudders. He continued down to her buttocks, giving a nip. She gasped not expecting it, which he chuckled before sliding a hand between her legs and inserting two fingers inside her. Alysanne groaned, her core already wet for him. But Jorah wanted to make sure she was prepared, before he got into position and slide in her slowly. She gasped and groaned, burying her head into the pillow.

Jorah caressed her side, pressing his body against her back. He groaned against her ear, feeling how hot, wet, and tight she was. They stayed joined, as Jorah nuzzled her neck, kissing it, as he made his way to her ear suckling it. Alysanne moaned, turning her head slightly to meet his lips. They kissed, tongues dancing one another. The year and many months of separation had their bodies begging for touch. Jorah doubts they'll be leaving this room for the rest of the day. His thoughts vanished feeling her walls clenching while her hips pushed back begging him to move. A chuckle escaped his lips, as he started thrusting his hips at a slow and steady pace.

"Jorah," She moaned, clenching the sheets.

He groaned, feeling the sweet torture on her walls clenching around him. She tried moving her hips back to increase the pace, but he wouldn't allow it. What he wanted is for her to enjoy it without effort. So, he adjusted himself so he laid completely on top of her, pressing her down deep into the mattress. He took her hands entwinning their fingers, while his legs were retaining hers. He strokes deep inside her, grazing the spot he knew made her come undone. Despite the torture for himself, to take her for his release, he wanted to ensure she found her release first. In and out, deep penetrating strokes. Lips claiming her shoulders, neck and ear. There was a slight temptation to mark her, present his claimant on her flesh, but knew that would not be wise.

Alysanne whimpered trying to move but couldn't. Her body was on fire due to her desire, as her senses were drowned by him. All they could hear was their soft sounds of pleasures, the smacking of skin against skin, the waves crashing on the rocks and the storm outside. Jorah moved one of her hands, to be held by his left, while his right slithered down under her and teased her clit. She yelped, before pressing her mons against his hand, panting rapidly seeking release. To ease her torture, he increased his pace, rocking his hips thrusting against her with increasing force. The tension coiled inside him, as he ground his teeth focusing how she writhed beneath me.

"Jorah, please," she begged.

Unable to resist anymore, he thrust hard, feeling her tight body grasping him. She reached her peak and tipped over, muscles clenching at the tides of bliss that swept over her, as she cried out in sheer ecstasy. Jorah groaned, seeking his release, thrusting faster, harder until he suddenly came, spilling his seeds inside her reaching his own pinnacle. He collapsed on top of her, remaining joined.

In the haze, Jorah thoughts linger on what if his seeds securing inside her produced a child. When he was younger, all he ever wanted was a family of his own. When in the Veil, seeing Joren, of the possibility of a child with Alysanne. But then he remembered she was on the Lys elixir, let alone where their uncertain future would go. She was a Queen, although they both have each other's hearts, their future is undetermined from the wars that were to come. If they were in Meereen he would have asked her…but they were not in Essos.

Slowly he pulled out and laid down next to her, seeing her face flushed as she was still recovering from her orgasm. He traced his fingers on her back, along the spine and scar. She opened her eyes, those indigo eyes that were filled with love. Alysanne scooted closer cradling his cheek before leaning in and kissing him. Jorah kissed her back, keeping it soft and gentle.

When she pulled back, she smiled, "That's one way to wake up."

Jorah nodded, securing an arm around her.

They stayed like this for some time, cherishing the moment. He combed his fingers through her short hair, noting it was easier to move through compared to her previous long locks.

"You've cut your hair," he murmured.

"It was part of the ritual to bring me back," she sighed. "A bit short for my liking."

Jorah snorted, as he tried to find some humor, "Easier to brush."

"As if you had long hair," she muttered. Jorah paused which caught her attention. "Seriously?"

"During my younger years," he said as he sat up and stretched.

"That would have been something to see," she teased.

Jorah simply nodded, young men if not most men in the North have long hair that at least goes to their chin or shoulders. Grooming wasn't really a thing. Although, it was not too long or men be teased of being a woman. Although, after some time, he just cut it to a good length to manage, especially when in Essos as the weather wasn't too kind.

Alysanne sighed as she sat up, "Must we get up?"

He smiled, "The choice is yours."

"Sadly, I have to prepare for the next attack, if not convince my War Council to change their focus to the Great War." She said as she climbed out of bed.

"They want you to focus on the Lannisters," Jorah assumed, watching her going to the basin, pouring water to wash her face.

"Yes, I'm sure you know what the Lannisters did in the past, and heard what Cersei did to the Tyrells?"

Jorah nodded, he knew what Tywin Lannister did to Elia Martell and her children. He was there after the sacking, being one of the Northern Houses to see the them cover in Lannister flags. Even the red of the banners could not mask the crimson blood. He thanked the Old Gods he did not see their condition; he'd probably be unable to live with himself if he had. When he arrived in Westeros, he heard what Cersei Lannister did to avoid being sentenced guilty. Blowing up the Great Sept of Baelor, killing thousands of people, including half of the Tyrell family. All because the Lioness did not want to be found and charge guilty. Based on the charges and evidence, there was no chance of escaping the execution.

"The Martells and the Tyrells want justice, the Velaryon and Celtigar, they support me because of blood…but Lord Ardrian could change his mind anytime he wants. If only there was a way to show them of the greater threat." She said, as she took a rag and washed between her legs.

Jorah nodded; he too has not seen the monsters that Alysanne have seen in her vision. But he believes in her, since her visions came true about the Red Wedding. Also, he made a promise to Rhaegar to protect her.

"I don't suppose you have my armor from the pit?" Jorah asked.

"Sadly, it got burned." She answered. "I'll take you to see the blacksmith to forge you better armor."

"I would appreciate it," he said, and remained sitting there aweing at her. Watching her wash her body.

She stopped looking at him, "What?"

"Sometimes I have a hard time believing you are real," he murmured.

Alysanne smiled as she came over straddling his lap. "You said that to me in Qarth."

He nodded wrapping his arms around her. "I spoke the truth."

"You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, loyal confidant, and my dearest friend." She said cradling his cheek staring into his eyes. "And truest lover."

Not a second later, their lips met.

No doubt they did not leave the royal bedchambers until noon when their bodies needed substances. Jorah did not mind it at all. Enjoying every moment of it.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

"You look happy," Daenerys said as she enters the Painted Table.

I was alone, wanting some time to think of possible battle strategies. Calculating the whereabouts of my army and whether or not I should continue the Siege of King's Landing. There are two wars, one happening now, and one greater than this. The question is, do I have enough time for the Great War to acquire more armies or not? Jon Snow told me the North roughly has twenty-thousand men. I need to speak with him, on his estimation of what the Army of the Dead has, since he last saw them.

Then again, my attention would change back to last night and this morning. Angry sex, making love, fucking, and never ending of being intimate until our stomachs begged for food. To say I was satisfied was an understatement. If I wasn't on the Lys elixir, there would have been a chance of pregnancy. Luckily, I was. Because as much as I love children, now is not the time to produce one. Not while Cersei sits on the Iron Throne and the Night King having his army marching south. Still, it was like a strong pull was yanking Jorah and I together.

After our morning together, I had led Jorah to the blacksmith from Qohor. The one who forged my armor and finished making Ser Barristan's armor a few weeks ago. The Qohorik smith did an excellent job in his work, when training in my armor Ser Barristan got rather harsh. The vibration being felt under the metal, however what should have left a massive dent or scratch there were none. As if the metal was close to being Valyrian steel. Then again Qohor was the city of Sorcerers, as Daenerys joked that my armor was enchanted. So, I left Jorah with the blacksmith as he took measurements.

No offence to his three previous armors. His first being more suitable for battle, while his other two were either incomplete or only suitable for the climate. After the Daznak Pit and seeing his previous armor before it had to be burned from contamination, I saw several indications of damages. Over time those flaws would've cracked and killed him.

"Hmm?" I replied.

"Did you sleep well?" Daenerys asked as she came over. "I've noticed you didn't join me for breakfast or lunch…"

"I slept perfectly fine," I answered, staring at the map.

"And Ser Jorah was absent," she added.

I groaned, not bothering to play this game, "Yes, he stayed in my room. Yes, we did more than just sleep. Anything else?"

Daenerys chuckled with a smile, "I'm glad to hear that you and Ser Jorah are back together."

"It's hard not to," I sighed.

"You two deserve each other," she said as she places her hand on my shoulder. "Despite the past, you should be happy."

"I am happy," I assure her. "I'm still adjusting that he is back and alive. I prepared myself for his death from Greyscale, now seeing him here is a lot to take in. I'm also scared of losing him."

Daenerys nodded giving me a hug.

"It's hard to decide what matters most, love, duty, or power," I confessed, pulling away from her.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Yes, you do," I replied looking at her. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, you're my sister," She said with a smile.

"Then why do you keep challenging me?"

Her face dropped. "I don't know what you mean."

"You've been challenging my authority again and again since arriving at Dragonstone. Telling me how I should use my forces, embarrassing me in front of our allies, and telling me how I should rule."

Daenerys didn't say anything.

"You may be a Khaleesi to the Dothraki, but I am supposed to be Queen of Westeros. A different political world. One that has a code of honor."

"Yet Cersei has the advantage by using violence," She countered.

"And we have dragons," I reminded.

"Dragons you hardly use," She spat.

Something snapped inside me. The dark piece inside of me that I've been trying to suppress. As my arm wrapped around her neck, forcing her into a headlock. She gasped, scratching at my arms trying to break free, yet I had a good hold on her. Adding pressure around her neck, but not enough to suffocate her only to restrain her. Along with adding my weight to her shoulders so she can experience what I have been feeling lately.

"This is how I feel," I growl in her ear. "Ever since I've been resurrected, ever since our campaign, I felt the world crushing down on me. You and everyone else telling me how I should bloody damn rule." I added more weight while grabbing her left arm and forced it behind her back. She gasped, almost whimpering, "That is how I feel with you. You trying to bend me to be what you want, a Feared Queen. I did not risk my life, to be abused by Viserys so you can tell me what to do. I did not risk my hand in marriage, so you can fondle with other men. I did not die and come back, so you can rule through me. Between your rank and mine, who is the leader of this campaign?"

"You are," She whimpered.

"Who is going to be Queen here," I growled.

"You are."

"I love you Dany, but you need to respect my authority and decision." I said and let her go.

She stumbled back rubbing her shoulder in shock for what I did to her.

"I'm tired of people telling me what I need to do, how I should be Queen." I told her tiredly. "I did not come here to be Queen of the Ashes. I came to Westeros, to save the people from the Long Night and restore House Targaryens name. We are in the shadow of our Father. He grew mad, so mad to the point that he was willing to set wildfire upon King's Landing. When you advised I burn Lord Randyll Tarly and his son…I had a vision of our father burning two men…in a hideous act that the gods could never forgive. The smallfolk don't care who sits on the Iron Throne, but the nobles…they can never forget the cruel vicious actions our father did. I was born on the day he executed ten noble lords, one of them being a woman who was accused of being a witch. I already have a dark mark on me…I must prove to them I am better than Father. But I can't rely on the Motto Fire and Blood every single time."

"Alysanne…"

"Daenerys, please don't make me look at you as my rival. I started my campaign for us to go home…don't make me regret it."

Daenerys looked down, hopefully realizing how her actions as of late have been.

"The dragon has three heads," I reminded her. "We are two of the three. The last of House Targaryen by name and blood. If we are going to take back our home…we must play the game. Those who cheat end up dead." I turned my attention to the Painted Table. "However, with the Long Night fast approaching… there are worse things to consider."

"I just wish I can understand what you saw in your visions," she said resting a hand on my shoulder.

"I need you to trust me," I said resting a hand on her shoulder. "Let me lead in how I want to lead."

Daenerys nodded.

I took a deep breath and hugged her, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she mumbled.

"You are a Khaleesi, the Dothraki rely on brutality and strength. But I am the Dragon Queen, I must rely on balance."

Daenerys nodded.

I sighed, I regretted in putting Daenerys in a headlock. I hated that I had to force myself on her to listen. It reminded me of Viserys, but I keep reminding myself I wasn't threatening her. I was reminding her where our positions stands. In the beginning we were supposed to rule Westeros together. But now…I don't know if we can rule together. Back in Meereen I was doing the majority of the work. Now…she has a Khalasar, she was the Queen of the Dothraki, and after the wars in Westeros, the Dothraki will want to return back to the great grass sea. Back to their loved ones and familiar culture. Daenerys needs to realize that. She will either return to Essos or abdicate her position as the Great Khaleesi and send her bloodriders home.

We turned out attention to the Painted Table. Thoughts linger on how many times our ancestor Aegon spent on planning his conquest over the Seven Kingdom. There were the Seven Dominate Kings, and then there were the lesser kings, Houses that want the titles as Kings. War, countless wars between two kingdoms or within the kingdom itself. Visenya told me long ago Aegon tried to bring back the Valyrian Empire. He started off by aiding the free cities of Pentos, Tyrosh, and Lys against Volantis during the Century of Blood. There was an opportunity, but he turned his interest to Westeros, since the majority of the Free Cities were Valyrian colonies of the coast. It was only when he commissioned the Painted Table, did he get the idea that there should be one realm, not seven kingdoms.

I walked over to the North staring at the map of Winterfell.

The outline looking oddly familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"When do you think Ser Barristan and Tyrion will arrive?" Daenerys asked.

"If Ser Barristan hasn't killed Tyrion just to get some peace and quiet, they'll be here in two days. We were blessed that Aggo was interested in learning the common tongue to translate for them with the Dothraki." I replied.

"Yes, still a bit rough, not like Rakharo," she said.

"**May he ride forever in the night lands,"** I prayed.

Daenerys nodded with a sigh. So many people have died on our journey to get here. To reclaim our home. Mother was the first, next Ser Willem, Viserys, Drogo, Jhiqui, Rakharo Irri, Xaro, Doreah, Hizdahr…and countless soldiers died for us. Of course, some we killed for betraying us from the beginning, in the end, their main goal was our claimant to the Iron Throne. Everything that has happened has come to this. Once more, the desire for the Iron Throne does not linger in my veins. It was shoved onto me, as it was all Viserys talked about. Viserys sitting on the Iron Throne with me standing next to him, as we watched our enemies being executed. But that's not me. What I want is restore House Targaryen's name and honor.

The doors opened as Jorah entered the room.

"How did it go at the blacksmith?" I asked.

"It went well," he answered. "He lent me some temporary armor for now."

I nodded, seeing the light weighted armor.

And here we are, the three people who started our journey towards home.

This was my family.

* * *

**A small loving chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	70. Chapter 70: Terrible News

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 70: Terrible News**

_Tyrion's POV_

The Hand of the Queen and Ser Barristan the Bold returned to Dragonstone with the prisoners. Tyrion was thankful that the Queen took his advice of taking the Tarlys as prisoners and not executing them on the spot. Although, Lord Randall xenophobia was not pleasant in the days of burying or cremating the dead. Despite the fact that Alysanne gave the fallen their funeral rights, even allowing a hundred soldiers taking the fallen back to the Westerlands or Hornhill. In war, the losing opponent doesn't deserve their funeral rights, they just let their bodies rot in the field.

The damage the dragons laid siege, burning the fields, and that is with control. If the Dragon Sisters hadn't trained the dragons, there would have been more burned victims and remains that would be impossible to return. Let alone the cargo that was being sent. Tyrion honestly thought he was sent back in time when Aegon the Conqueror started the Field of Fire against King Mern Gardener and King Loren Lannister. However, Aegon did not set his soldiers onto the battlefield. Tyrion can see what the dragons did in Meereen, the way the dragons think are to that of their riders. Though, Tyrion never got the opportunity to meet Drogon, and preferred not to.

By the time the ship reached the bay and taken to the shores, Tyrion and Ser Barristan were greeted by the welcoming committee. In that small party was Missandei, Varys, Alysanne, and…Ser Jorah. Tyrion noticed Ser Barristan tensed with a scowl in seeing the knight again. Ser Jorah, seeing the slight glare kept a neutral face. Alysanne sighed, assuming with Tyrion the tensions were high since Ser Barristan made a sacred vow to protect the Queen from traitors. But Ser Jorah came back…twice to save their Queen. In fact, if it weren't for Ser Jorah, Alysanne would have died in the Daznak Pit. Let alone the dwarf did not expect to see Mormont again, after learning about his condition with Greyscale. He would have to ask Ser Jorah how he survived.

Alysanne approaches them, "I'm glad to see you both are safe and back in my council."

"As always, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said. Then gestured to the rowboat where the war generals and Tarlys were kept. "Where will you like prisoners."

"Have them kept in the East Wing, weapons stripped and heavily guarded," Alysanne ordered.

"As you command," Ser Barristan said.

Tyrion was surprised, for he thought she would have placed them in the dungeons. But since these men come from noble houses, an exception was made. The dwarf also noticed a change in the Queen, she seemed more relieved, no longer tense and cautious. His thoughts were interrupted when Ser Barristan walked over to Ser Jorah. The Bear Knight stiffened as the two men looked at each other.

"Ser Jorah," the older knight greeted.

"Ser Barristan," the exiled knight replied back.

Blue eyes of different shades were locked. As if they were having a silent conversation. One only knights and true warriors can communicate in. Not long after the two gave a nod.

"It's good to have you back," Ser Barristan said.

Ser Jorah nodded in acceptance.

"You both must be tired from your long journey," Alysanne said. "Rest, tomorrow we will discuss our next move."

Everyone nodded as they headed back to the Castle.

Tyrion walked beside Missandei and Ser Barristan after the translator told the Dothraki what to do with the prisoners. Looking up ahead, he watched Queen Alysanne and Ser Jorah walking ahead. Both in silence, basically in content. They didn't share a conversation, only glance at one another exchanging a smile.

"Missandei, when did Ser Jorah arrive?" Tyrion asked.

"Four days ago," Missandei answered. "He arrived the moment her Grace returned with Princess Daenerys. A pleasant surprise, one the Queen needed."

"And why do you say that?" Tyrion asked.

"No offense, my Lord, but the Queen hasn't been happy. She has put on a mask to please everyone, but deep down, she was sad."

"We were there for her," Ser Barristan reminded.

Missandei gave a sincere smile, "There are some relations that are different from others. After all, Ser Jorah has been there since the beginning."

"That is true," Tyrion said.

As they climbed the staircase, Tyrion turned to Varys, "You're awfully quiet."

"In deep thought," Varys replied.

"Then you must share, over a drink," Tyrin said. "I need some good wine."

He shuddered from the memory of trying the Dothraki fermented milk. It was sour-smelling and thick with clots. Oh, let's not forget the pepper beer. The spices burning his tongue more than the Dornish cuisine. How did the Targaryen sisters survive with the Dothraki if they can't have a good drink? Tyrion had to drink all the wine he had to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth. Ser Barristan watched in shock, wondering how the dwarf hasn't killed himself from wine yet.

**.o0o.**

Tyrion and Varys took the Stone room to talk. As usual, Tyrion was pouring himself some Arbors wine, curtesy of House Redwyne. Varys sat there tapping a raven scroll that has the House Stark seal. Definitely a letter from the North addressed to Jon Snow. The lingering thoughts caused the Spider to tap the raven scroll on the steps. Tyrion noticed the nervousness in his eunuch friend.

"All rulers demand that people bend the knee. That's why they're rulers," Tyrion said, taking a sip of wine.

Varys gave him a questionable look.

"She gave Tarly a choice, a man who had taken up arms against her. What else could she do?" Tyrion tried to reason.

"At least she did not burn him alive in front of his men," Varys confessed in agreement.

"I am her Hand, not her head. I can't make her decisions for her," Tyrion said. "Only advise, which she gladly took."

"I wished I had that liberty when I served the previous Targaryen. That's what I used to tell myself about her father," Varys murmured. "I found the traitors, but I wasn't the one burning them alive. I was only a purveyor of information." He grabbed the chalice and took a large gulp. "It's what I told myself when I watched them beg for mercy –I'm not the one doing it. When the pitch of their screams rose higher – I'm not the one doing it. When their hair caught fire, and the smell of their burning flesh filled the throne room – and the smell of their burning flesh filled the throne room – I'm not the one doing it." He took another gulp then sighed.

"Alysanne is not her father," Tyrion whispered.

"No, she takes more after her mother," Varys agreed. "Queen Rhaella was smart, she partially ran the kingdom when the Hands couldn't after your father."

"I've seen the Queen Rhaella once, how she kept that mask on is beyond me," Tyrion said.

"Noble and Royal women don't have the liberty that men have. You are surprised at how dangerous a woman can be."

"I know, have you forgotten my sister," Tyrion muttered refilling his cup

Varys nodded.

"One enigma I can't grasp is the relationship between Ser Jorah and the Queen." Tyrion thought aloud. "They hold so many differences and the betrayal."

"Because he is her mortal flaw and she is his fatal sin," Varys guessed.

"Now that is poetic, even for you," Tyrion

"The point being is that Ser Jorah has been there since the beginning, even with his betrayal. Saw things I've never told King Robert. The things Viserys did to her. When the letters stopped coming, I sent my little birds to check on them."

"You've sent a wine merchant to poison them. Wasn't it your plan to marry Daenerys to a Horse Warlord?"

"Illyrio's plan, not mine. But I knew Ser Jorah would be there to rescue them."

"Right," Tyrion said, doubting it. Although, he did agree that Mormont has been there from the beginning. Assuming that the knight was the two girls only link to home. Mormont becoming their friend and advisor with Khal Drogo's khalasar. Then he became the Queen's mentor in swords and taught her everything. Also, assuming something happened in Qarth, since Varys has no information from his spies in Qarth.

"Was it wrong for me to send him away?" Tyrion asked. "Exile him for the second time?"

"The man had contracted Greyscale," Varys reminded.

There was some guilt on that since Mormont caught the deadly disease trying to protect him. Then again, Tyrion kept reminding himself that if Jorah didn't kidnap him in the first place, none of this would have happened.

"They love each other," Tyrion sighed.

He thought back to what he said in Meereen when he brought him to Alysanne, asking the dwarf what should she do to Ser Jorah:

_"A ruler who kills those devoted to her is not a ruler who inspires devotion. And you're going to need to inspire devotion, a lot of it if you're ever going to rule across the Narrow Sea. But you cannot have him by your side when you do."_

Ser Jorah Mormont was a disgraced knight. He sold slaves that go against Westeros law. Instead of facing his liege Lord's justice, he fled the city to avoid execution. The man was made a prime example of what you should not do as a Lord of a Keep or city. However, the moment he said it, he saw both in pain that resembled him and Tysha. The act of betrayal and a hard decision. Grimacing at the memory he gulped down the wine.

"But he is still not a good match," Tyrion added.

"No one is a good match," Varys replied. "But are we going to ruin that happiness. One that can prevent the recurrence of her father?"

Tyrion opens his mouth to say something but stopped himself. What was more important, a political alliance through marriage, or a relationship that can prevent the Targaryen Madness.

Changing the subject, he stared at the scroll, "Who's that for?"

Varys glanced at the raven scroll, "Jon Snow."

"Did you read it?" Tyrion asked.

"It's a sealed scroll for the King in the North," Varys reminded.

Tyrion took a sip of wine, "What's it says?"

"Nothing good," Varys answered.

Tyrion finished another glass of wine.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Varys requested a private meeting with the Small Council and to invite King Snow and Ser Davos. So, in private, we settled in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Once everyone was in, Varys handed King Snow the raven Scroll. The fact that Varys summoned a council meeting, and gave the King in the North a scroll, easily tell my Master of Whisperers has illegally read a royal scroll. King Snow took the scroll and stood by the North on the carved table, while Daenerys and I sat by Dorne. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah stood behind me.

The way King Snow read the scroll showed a signed of mixed emotions, "I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead."

"I'm happy for you," Daenerys complimented.

King Snow rolled up the scroll.

"You don't look happy." She noted.

"Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make it past the Wall…"

"The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably." Varys interrupted.

"I need to go home," King Snow finished.

"You said you don't have enough men," Daenerys reminded.

"We'll fight with the men we have," King Snow said. "Unless you'll join us."

"I did make that promise," I said.

"And give the country to Cersei?" Daenerys asked. "As soon as you march away, she marches in."

"Not unless I leave you with the Dothraki or you in charge with our Westerosi allies," I said. "But I can't ignore what I saw."

"Perhaps not," Tyrion said, having an idea. All eyes were on him. "Cersei thinks the Army of the Dead is nothing but a story, made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?"

"I don't think she'll come to see the dead at my invitation," King Snow said, almost chuckling in the plot.

Tyrion walked forward, stopping at the Crownlands, upon King's Landing where the Lion totem was. He took hold of it, "So, bring the dead to her."

"I thought that was what we were trying to avoid," Daenerys sarcastically said.

"We don't have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier." Tyrion suggested.

"Is that possible?" Ser Davos asked.

King Snow thought about it, "The first Wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the Wall."

"Bring one of these things down to King's Landing and show her the truth," Tyrion said.

"Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the capital," Varys said.

"The only person she listens to is Jaime," Tyrion sighed. "He might listen to me."

Tyrion turned his gaze to me. I sighed thinking about it, "It is one option, however, how are you supposed to enter King's Landing? Last I recall, you are the Crowns most wanted."

Suddenly all the men in the room turned their attention to Ser Davos. The man who has been called the Onion Knight became uncomfortable being put on the spot just like that. "I can smuggle you in, but if the gold cloaks were to recognize you, I'm warning you, I'm not a fighter."

Tyrion nodded.

"Well, it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men," Daenerys reminded.

"Fair point," Varys agreed. "How do you propose to find one?"

That is a good question. One thought came to mind that would make the situation much easier, "I and a few riders on Viserion and fly North and collect one. An easy get in and get out."

"No," Nearly everyone in my Small Council bellowed, except for Varys.

This baffled me, almost jumping for I did not expect such a response.

"Your Grace," Tyrion cleared his throat. "You are the Queen. The most important person in the world can't fly off to the most dangerous place in the world."

"Also, risking your life." Ser Barristan joined the conversation. "forgive me, though trained by Ser Jorah and me, you have only four years of experience. You were injured in the Daznak Pit and the encounters with the Warlock. We lost you once. We can't lose you again."

_Damn him, he has a point_, I thought bitterly.

"With the Queen's permission, I'll go north and take one," Jorah offered.

This caught me off guard as I looked at him bewildered. Did I hear him correctly, or did Jorah offer to go on the expedition to fetch a Wight? He has only been back for four days, and now he was leaving again? After the year of separation from Tywin's ploy of exposing Jorah's secrets to get him out of my council. My stomach tightens, remembering the fighting pits. How he almost died to prove himself.

"You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you," Jorah said.

I opened my mouth to speak, yet no words came out. Hasn't he proven himself already by finding the cure? Must he risk his life once more in the unknown territory to prove Cersei Lannister of a greater threat?

"The Free Folk will help us," King Snow said. "They know the real north better than anyone."

"They won't follow Ser Jorah," Ser Davos reminded.

"They won't have to," King Snow replied.

"You can't lead a raid beyond the Wall," Ser Davos scolded. "You're not in the Night's Watch anymore, you're the King in the North."

"I'm the only one here who's fought them. I'm the only one here who knows them." King Snow said.

"My sister hasn't given you permission to leave," Daenerys inserted.

King Snow gave her a look, "With respect, Your Highness, I don't need your sister's permission. I am a King." He then turned his attention to face me. "And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger…because it's our best chance."

"There is one problem," Varys spoke out. "Your Grace, you promised your allies we would attack King's Landing within three or so months. The Tyrells and Redwynes are holding you to that regard. Let alone Ser Terrance Celtigar is getting messages from Lord Ardrian on why the siege is being withheld. The longer you postpone the siege, the lesser the alliances."

_Shit,_ I thought.

I have less than two months from the siege. I made many promises, and after what happened in on the Goldroad. We have the upper Hand on taking back my home. Take back the castles where I was born. There is an advantage to taking back the Southern Kingdoms, it will get us the numbers, if King Snow brother's message is true, then there isn't much time.

"How long does it take to get Eastwatch by ship?" I asked.

"Two weeks," Ser Davos answered.

"If I give you my fastest ship, you have until the second month, if you don't come here by then I must continue the siege," I told them all. "Time is of the essence."

Jon Snow nodded, "Thank you, Your Grace."

I could only nod, "And make it two Wights."

One for Cersei and one for the Lords of Westeros.

**.o0o.**

"What the bloody hell!" I snapped when Jorah entered my chambers.

Once the shock that Jorah volunteered to go on the expedition faded, I became angry. I contained my anger until we were alone in private. Only Dany and Missandei could tell I was mad during the rest of the afternoon, and I gave my friend the evening and tomorrow off. For I have a feeling, this grudge will be lasting longer than anticipated. Of course, I had her fetch Jorah, who was hiding since the Small Council meeting. Jorah had his own chamber, but the last five days he has been in my own.

"Did I do something to offend you?" Jorah asked.

"Offend me?" I scoffed. "You volunteer for an expedition not knowing the consequences…Damn it, you just got back, and now you want to leave."

"Alysanne," Jorah murmured as he came over. "A few days ago, you said we need to find a way to convince the War Council of the Great War. This is our only chance."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," I said. "These things …they're not human. They may look human but they're not."

I walked over to the fireplace gazing into the flames, "I saw the Night King and his army once, from the visions the Undying Ones showed me. Once, and that was enough to plague me with nightmares since then. The stages of decay of men, women, and children. Animals that should not be able to stand on skeletal limbs. In the end, everyone bearing blue eyes and emotionless faces. And yet he stands there, made of ice summoning them as if he was a deity."

I turned around him, "This goes beyond men. This is not putting a sword in a man to release their inner beast. This is the same if not greater than dragons."

He came over resting a hand on my shoulder, "I know. I may not have seen them, but I know what that vision has done to you. I know that the spirits warned you in the Veil."

"I just got you back," I sighed, pressing my head on his chest. "I spent months thinking you were dead or dying. Must I go through it again?"

"I'm sorry," Jorah murmured wrapping arm around me. "But we must do so in order to protect the realm. I vowed to serve you. I am your sword when you are unable to fight."

"You mean restrained to fight," I muttered, looking up at him.

"Four years is not enough to be battle-ready," he reminded. "Ser Barristan learned to fight at the age of six, I was seven when my father started training me. Grey Worm was five. Although it would be easier to take a dragon beyond the Wall and grab a Wight. But…I can't see you hurt again."

"Jorah…"

"What happened in the Daznak Pit, I could never get the image of you lying on the ground bleeding. I carried you, thinking you were dying in my arms." He said, as his hand traced over the scar on my left shoulder. "Every day, I am reminded on how I almost lost you. Or the fact that I did indeed lost you…when Quaithe told me you were dying."

"I'm alive now," I said, cradling his cheek then sighed. "And yet, I don't feel the same ambitions anymore. I just want…"

"Whatever you decide, I will follow," he murmured.

"One-part brave, three parts fool." I chuckled slightly.

He gave a small smile before leaning down and kissed me. I was still mad, yet the way his lips pressed against my lips made it vanish. Was I being selfish for wanting him? Probably so. Mistakes were made in our past, though forgiven, it could have been prevented if there were truth and honesty. Wondering what things would have been if I didn't exile Jorah or followed Tyrion's advice. In the beginning, Dany was my only weakness. And now, Jorah is one. If anything were to happen to him again…I would never forgive myself. I pray to the Seven that nothing happens to him.

Pulling back to breathe, I stared into his eyes that remind me of the ocean.

"Until you go on the expedition, you belong to me."

"As you wish."

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	71. Chapter 71: Eastwatch

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

* * *

**Chapter 71: Eastwatch**

_Alysanne's POV_

I found myself in a cold, confined cage. As if my body fell into an abyss of crystal blue water pulled deep then frozen in place. All around was white and winter blues. Dimming of the sky as day turns into night, and night into day. Over and over, yet I was unable to move. Until hearing footsteps from above, seeing shadowed figures, their voices indistinctive, unable to make out what the people were saying. Talking, laughing, and singing, unaware beneath their feet there was somebody trapped beneath the ice.

Time continues to pass, the changing of the sun and moon, over and over again. The people above not realizing I was trapped in the cold abyss. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, decades, hundreds of years, to millennia more. Ignored and trapped. The hunger building in my stomach, starving, as my mouth became dry as the Red Waste.

But most importantly, anger. A wave of anger that could not be described in words, holding a vendetta, rage, deep primal rage to be set free but unable to move. Forcing my head down until seeing the source of this rage.

There trapped within the ice was a dragon. Its skin and scales were an icy shade of winter, basically made out of living ice, with pale blue eyes, and vast translucent wings. Its claw was reaching out, and arms almost spread as if in midflight. But yet, it was stuck as I was. Icey blue eyes staring at me filled with anger and rage. We were both trapped, and I feel its emotions. Thousands of years, the beast lived trapped within the ice — the creature from my dream in Meereen.

An ice dragon.

Just thinking about it, the eyes that were considered to be dormant cracked focusing on me.

**.o0o.**

I snapped awake from my dream with a slight gasp. I sat up taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, never expecting to feel such negative emotions. An ice dragon trapped in ice for thousands of years. Seeing the world change and ignored by man. It brought back the legend Ser Willem told of an ice dragon living inside the Wall. A mere legend to explain how Bran the Builder built the Wall to keep the _Others_ out in the Far North.

I haven't had a dream like that in a long time. It has been a year, maybe two, since I dreamt of the Ice Dragon. Probably the night before I… exiled Jorah. Was it just that a dream, or was it a vision? Sometimes I wish I had a better understanding of what these visions are or where do they come from. Was it Valyrian magic, a side effect from the House of the Undying, or was it just that…dreams? It makes me fearful of the previous dream, falling towards my death.

Shaking my head from such a thought, I took another deep breath and looked out the balcony seeing it was still early in the hours. Still early to break my fast or do something else. I sighed and looked down to see Jorah still asleep. The past few days, he has slept in my chambers as I asked him to. I no longer care what others think. The fact that he believes me is more than enough in this madness. Only my heart aches to know that in a few days he will be going on the expedition with King Snow and Ser Davos to Eastwatch and then far north passed the Wall to retrieve two Wights. In order to prove to Cersei and the War Council of a more significant threat that is marching south as we speak. I felt some guilt in delaying to help King Snow, thinking I had time. But time is now against us.

Tyrion and Ser Davos have left for King's Landing. In a few days, they will return, and Jorah will be gone. Deep down, wanting to be selfish to have him here where it was safe. But Jorah was stubborn as a bear. If he dies on this expedition…I would never forgive myself. Even if he would fight, kill, and die for me. His life is not mine. Sadly, I don't have anything that can make him stay. If I try telling him to stay, he will find a way to convince me otherwise.

Foolish thinking, however, I've lost so many people in my life. As Daenerys stated at Drogo's funeral pyre, I was afraid of being alone. Fearful of being abandoned again. My family was dead except for Daenerys. A part of me longed in the Veil the Warlocks made, to be Alys Mormont, being married to Jorah and starting a family of my own. Although, in reality, the chances of being that is undetermined. We've never talked about marriage, not while the Great War is upon us. All I know is that if he were to ask for my hand, he would give me a ring made out of his key from Mormont Keep. A home.

I know Jorah should get as much sleep as possible, but I couldn't resist as I laid back down and curled up against Jorah. Not a second later, his arm wrapped around me. I smiled softly before closing my eyes and tried to fall back to sleep, knowing in a few hours I have training.

"Another nightmare or vision?" Jorah mumbled, sleep heavy in his voice.

"I don't know…it was too allusive. I was trapped in ice and with an ice dragon who held so much rage."

Jorah nodded as he kissed the top of my head.

"Go back to sleep," I murmured.

Jorah didn't respond. I listen to his breathing until falling into a deep sleep.

**.o0o.**

_A few days later_

_Jorah's POV_

It wasn't long when Tyrion returned with Ser Davos with news of his mission's success. The Hand of the Queen managed to communicate with Ser Jaime Lannister to arrange a meeting. Well, to have Ser Jaime to pass on the message to Cersei. With that said, they will be departing the following day. Jorah knew Alysanne didn't like the plan. Thinking it was best to take Viserion and a few men, fly to the far north, grab two Wights and fly back. He will admit, it was a more straightforward method; however, Jon Snow says the Far North is unpredictable. And the unpredictable almost cost Alysanne's life twice.

So that night, Jorah tried to ease her worries. He was distracting her in conversations and intimacy. He doubts he ever expected such desperation in his lover. Then again, Jorah knew she had abandonment issues. Not that he could blame her since only two people from her childhood are alive, and everyone else was dead. By morning, he had woken up early to prepare for the journey North. As he sat on the bed getting dressed except Alysanne took him one more time. He did not mind, as he laid on the bed while his lover road him slowly, trying to savor each moment. Her hair was almost reaching her breast, indigo eyes locked to his blue orbs while his hands felt her thighs, waist, and breast. Jorah locked this in his memory.

Once they reached euphoric bliss, it was officially time to get ready. As he dressed, Alysanne came up behind him and placed something around his neck. He looked down, realizing it was the lone pearl necklace — one of the two things of Queen Rhaella Targaryen.

"Alysanne," Jorah started.

"I want you to have something from me." She said, whispering into his shoulder. "A reason for you to come back."

Jorah turned around, facing her, "I will always come back."

With that said, he leaned down to kiss her. A part of him did not want to go, but he felt like he needs to prove himself for the campaign. Finding the cure was not enough in his opinion of redemption. Feeling like he had failed her, he needs to do this. So, it took much effort to pull away when Missandei arrived to prepare the Queen for the day. With a kiss on her forehead, Jorah left to prepare for the departure.

An hour later he was on the beach with the other Northmen getting supplies onto the boats where the fastest ship was waiting in the bay. Deciding to help the men, he picked up a crate and put it in the boat.

"You may not believe it, but I've missed you Mormont," Tyrion said, who had snuck up beside Jorah. "Nobody glowers quite like you. Not even Grey Worm."

Jorah couldn't help the small smile that lifted his lips.

Tyrion smiled somewhat and pulled out a coin from his pocket, "This is the coin the slaver gave me when I suggested he free us and pay us, remember?"

Jorah was surprised Tyrion still had it. He remembers the coin, giving it back to Yezzan zo Qaggaz, buying his way to being in the Great Games. Never thought Tyrion would keep the coin.

"It was supposed to last us the rest of our lives," Jorah said.

Tyrion nodded as he gave it to Jorah, "Take it with you. But bring it back. Our Queen needs you."

Jorah nodded as both men turned seeing Alysanne and Daenerys coming over with their Dothraki guards and Ser Barristan. Once more, she walked over to them. As if there was a pull that can never be separated. Alysanne tried to be strong, but her eyes were watery.

"We should be better at saying farewell by now," Alysanne murmured.

Jorah nodded with a slight amused smiled, "Your Grace, I . . ."

However, Alysanne took his hands, stopping him. She leaned up and pecked him on the lips, though there was an illusion that masked to be a peck on the cheek. This surprised him since the Queen was a private person. She has never expressed her genuine emotions out in the open as their first kiss was hidden in his tent before the sacking of Yunkai. In fact, he doesn't recall any form of their intimacy by touch that was ever expressed in the open. Always private.

The sounds of footsteps caught his attention as he gazed over seeing Jon Snow and Ser Davos walking over. A part of him was concerned if Jon Snow was possibly Rhaegar's son since the man does hold a strong resemblance in facial structure. Although, he had to remind Alysanne that even if Jon is Rhaegar's son, he would still be a bastard since the Crown Prince was married to Elia Martell. Still on guard to protect his lover and her sister, he will do what he can to acquire more information. So, he picked up her hands and kissed her knuckles.

Although Daenerys was near them as Jon came over to the Princess.

"If I don't return, at least you won't have to deal with the King in the North anymore," Jon said.

Daenerys smiled at him, "I've grown used to him."

Jon nodded, a bit awkwardly and turned to face both Alysanne and Jorah. The two people who have been in the Khaleesi's life. Noting not to continue, he approached Alysanne.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace," Jon said.

"And I wish you safe travels, Your Grace" Alysanne replied.

Jon nodded before joining the men on the boat. Jorah gave Alysanne hand one more squeeze before joining the others. As a team, they pushed the boat into the bay. As they reached the short tides, he glances over his shoulder, staring at Alysanne who stood there watching him dearly. An expression he thought he would never see.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

_Look, please look back,_ I thought.

As if he heard me, Jorah glanced over his shoulder one last time before heaving the boat into the ocean. It would be weeks, maybe months before I see him again. If I see him again. I pray to five out of the seven for his safe return. Praying to the Warrior to keep him brave. Praying to the Father to make him just. Praying to the Mother's mercy to protect him. Praying to the Smith to keep his blades strong and praying to the Crone to give him wisdom. But then I prayed to the Stranger, begging the God of Death not to take him away from me.

_I've fallen in love with a man on the run_, I thought_. Please, don't take that sinner from me._

When the rowboat was no longer in view, camouflaging within the greywater, Ser Barristan advised we return to the castle. Unable to resist, I only nodded, leading the way back inside. Daenerys walked beside me as she spoke in Valyrian.

_"Have faith,"_ Daenerys murmured. _"He always comes back."_

_"I know, but…"_ I started but stop.

She placed a hand on my shoulder, _"I know."_

I sighed and thought about what happened on the beach. "_Were you flirting with the King in the North?"_

Daenerys bit her lip after a brief paused. A part of me wanted to chuckle. However, I had an issue since Jon Snow resembled Rhaegar in facial structure. If he had purple eyes and silver-gold hair, it would be a dead ringer. Except King Snow had dark eyes and hair. If Jon Snow is indeed Rhaegar's son, then I can't allow Dany to be in a relationship with him. I made a personal vow to put an end to the practice of incest. Long ago, the magic Valyria had prevented the complications of incest. But the last three centuries, whatever source of magic that kept the dragon magic pure in our Valyrian veins are gone now. Daenerys and I may be the last of the dragon riders, but we are not the last of Valyrian since a fifth of Essos population are Valyrian descendants.

Also, when did she start holding interest in Jon Snow? She spent weeks trying to get the King in the North to bend the knee and now she is flirting with him. Sadly, I will have to put an end to this. I could be overthinking if King Snow was our nephew, except I can't risk it. Our generation dealt with madness from Viserys and my health complication. When I was pregnant with Viserys' child, I feared what the third generation of incest would do.

"_Besides we will need a political alliance if we want the North to return to the Seven Kingdoms. The best way is through marriage,"_ she said.

I sighed, _"Dany, marry for love, not an obligation."_

"_Still,"_ she said.

Sadly, I feel like political marriages do nothing but kill our husbands or potential husbands. Sometimes I wonder if we were cursed. Viserys, Drogo, and Hizdahr are dead. Another reason why I hold back on a possible marriage with Jorah currently. Using the distraction that we wait for the unknown with the Great War, not sure if we will survive or not.

Up on the steps stood Lord Varys. As usual, arms hidden in his sleeves.

"Your Grace," Varys greeted. "Your Highness."

"Varys," I said. "Are your birds singing?"

"They are, your grace," he replied.

"I'll let you be," Daenerys excused herself as she left with her guards. I dismissed Lord Tyrion, yet kept Ser Barristan for protection. Let alone, intending for another round of training.

"What whispers have you heard?" I asked.

"My birds speak of two events happening in Westeros, one in the south and the other in the north." He answered.

"Continue," I ordered.

"In King's Landing, Cersei has been talking to Tycho Nestoris, trying to pay off the Iron debt Robert Baratheon and her illborn son made. Unfortunately, the Tyrells valuables Ser Jaime accumulated is not enough. Let alone her sending an envoy to Braavos to hire the golden company."

"Your Grace, we should make plans for the golden company," Ser Barristan advised.

"I doubt the Golden Company will serve me since I am a Targaryen and their organization was built to defeating the Targaryens," I said. "Let alone Viserys's failed attempts."

"If only Ser Jorah were here to negotiate with the Golden Company, since he was once a Sellsword," Varys murmured.

I gave him a warning look as did Ser Barristan.

"Anything else in King's Landing?" I asked.

"Yes, it seems Cersei is back to coupling with her brother again," Varys answered.

I tensed as did Ser Barristan. My stomach twisted in disgust. Seriously, how can someone be attracted to their own siblings so willingly? Seven hells, even my parents, were forced to be together. Yet, my grandparents were siblings and fell in love with each other despite King Aegon V's wishes. The damn Valyrian tradition. Let alone, Viserys forcing me to marry him. But to hear someone who was not Valyrian could do such a thing and continue such a practice.

"I will put an end to that practice soon enough," I promised.

Ser Barristan nodded in agreement.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"An old acquaintance of mine is playing a dangerous game with the Starks," he reported.

"And what is that?" I asked.

"Lord Baelish is trying to separate the sisters with information used many years ago," he answered.

I nodded, "Is he that good?"

"He's good on blackmail and the art of manipulations," Varys said. "Playing the game with controlled chaos. Well, his control."

"I recall him putting a knife to Ned Stark neck," Ser Barristan added. "Not someone to put on your council."

"Let alone the rumors of that Lord Baelish killed his wife, the late Lady Lysa and conspired in the death of Lord Jon Arryn." Varys murmured.

"And did he?" I asked.

"Indeed, he has," Varys confirmed.

Ser Barristan scowled.

I nodded, taking the information in, "A Mockingbird messing with wolves. I doubt he will last."

With nothing else to say, Ser Barristan and I headed to the training yard.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

_Two Weeks Later_

Jorah glanced at the Wall; it has been a long two-week sail to Eastwatch. As he stared at the Wall, dressed in many layers of leathers and fur over his armor. His thoughts linger on his Father. Jeor Mormont spent the majority of his life at the Wall to escape his grief for his wife. Jorah knew how much his Mother's death affected the Clan dearly.

Another thought lingers wondering what would have happened if he had taken the black. Instead of fleeing to Essos, head North and renounce of claims and titles. Would his Father be disappointed in him, and in time, forgive him? His life as a brother of the Nights Watch. Then he thought about the things he would have missed if he took the black. He would not have met the Targaryen Sisters, or the Dothraki. He wouldn't have recognized his flaws and wrongs if it weren't for his exile.

He sighed, breathing the Northern air, breathing in the sharp winter winds. He was back in the Kingdom he grew up in. Jon leads the way as he, Ser Davos, and a young man named Gendry headed towards their destination. There was something about Gendry that looked familiar, but he can't put his finger on it. It seems the generation born after Robert's Rebellion hold so many resemblances the men he fought alongside with. Then again, most men died long ago. They went inside the Eastwatch castle, more of a small fortress where wildlings have inhabited the grounds.

There stood one man, taller than the other wildlings. The wildling being broad chest, massive shoulders, and a beard and hair that are red as fire. The wildling gave Jon a jolly hug, almost knocking the man down. Jon gave a little smile before explaining the situation. Not even four sentences, the wildling stopped Jon.

"Freezing my balls off, let's go inside for a drink." The wildling said.

Jorah snorted, as they went inside. Ser Davos noticed the lack of introductions told him and Gendry the man was Tormund. One of the Free folks who been helping Jon for the last few years. They went to the shieldhall, sitting at a table as drinks were poured around. Jon explained to Tormund the situation.

"Isn't it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?" Tormund asked Ser Davos.

"I've been failing at that job of late," Ser Davos answered.

"How many queens are there now?" Tormund asked.

"Two," Jon answered.

Tormund looked at Jon, "And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?"

Gendry chuckled from that.

Jon took a deep breath, "Both."

"How many men did you bring?" Tormund asked.

Jon glanced at Ser Jorah. With Alysanne's army marching across Westeros and Daenerys securing her numbers, it was only him. Jon knew that, as well.

"Not enough," Jon answered.

"The big woman?" Tormund asked.

Jon snorted, taking a sip of ale.

"We were hoping some of your men could help," Jorah said.

"Hmm," Tormund replied.

"I'll be staying behind," Ser Davos inquired. "I'm a liability out there, as you well know."

Tormund nodded, "You are."

Ser Davos merely nodded not taking that as an insult.

Tormund faced Jon, "You really want to go out there? Again?"

Jon nodded.

Tormund stared at the group. "You're not the only ones."

All three men were confused. Finishing their drinks, Tormund leads them to the prison cells.

"My scouts found them a mile south of the Wall. Said they were on their way here."

There were several men in the cell. One laid on a bench wrapped in a cloak — others in the corner. Neither of them adapting to the winter climate.

"You're the Hound," Jon noted seeing the man on the bench whose face was covered in scars from being burned. "I saw you once at Winterfell."

The Hound sat up.

"They want to go beyond the Wall, too." Tormund murmured.

"We don't want to go beyond the Wall; we have to." Another man said in a corner with his friend. He had an eyepatch over his right eye. Next to him was a man with ginger hair. "Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming—"

"Don't trust him," Gendry interrupted, coming closer. "Don't trust any of them." He leaned against the rail. "They're the Brotherhood. And the last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a red witch to be murdered.

Jorah stepped closer for he knew these men. The last he saw these two men was during the Greyjoy rebellion. One stood out the most to him.

"Thoros?" Jorah called out. The man heard his name and lifted his head, "I hardly recognize you."

"Ser Jorah Mormont," Thoros hoarsely greeted. "They won't give me anything to drink down here. I haven't been feeling like myself."

Tormund glared at Jorah, "You're a fucking Mormont?"

Jorah faced him.

"Like the last Lord Commander?" The Free Folk asked.

"He was my father," Jorah confirmed.

"He hunted us like animals," Tormund growled.

"You returned the favor, as I recalled," Jorah countered.

Tormund growled.

"Here we all are . . . at the edge of the world at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason." Lord Beric said.

"Our reasons aren't your reasons," Ser Davos countered.

"It doesn't matter what we think our reasons are." Ser Beric said as he stood up walking over. "There's a greater purpose at work. And we serve it together, whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light—"

"For fuck's sake, will you shut your hole?" The Hound shouted. "Are we coming with you or not?"

"Don't you want to know what we're doing?" Jorah asked.

"Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell, waiting to die?" Thoros muttered.

"He's right," Jon said. "We're all on the same side."

Gendry snapped his head, "How can we be?"

Jon sighed, "We're all breathing."

With nothing else to say, Tormund handed Jon the keys. Jorah was impressed, using that lone excuse to free these men. He knew Beric and Thoros, but the Hound, Sandor Clegane is rumored to be a vicious warrior. The brother of Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain who murder Elia Martell and her children. Jorah wondered how Alysanne would take it when she learned he was working with the brother who slaughtered a third of the Targaryens. It was probably best not to mention this to her.

It would be the next day at the early hours when thirteen men went on the expedition. Before the departure, Jorah sent a letter to Alysanne, giving her a report. As he sat by the desk fiddling the pearl pendant that rested on his chest. Deep down, he knew it was a high risk. Even considered requesting she come with Viserion. However, he will not risk her life. Not again.

This was his way of redeeming himself.

Even though he was forgiven, it was not enough.

Dressed in furs he marched with the crew through the lone tunnel in the Wall and stared at the Far North.

Into enemy territory.

* * *

**Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I did a volunteer camp, and it was crazy, followed by writers blocks.**

**Thank you for your patience.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	72. Chapter 72: Beyond the Wall

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 72: Beyond the Wall**

_Jorah's POV_

They've been traveling for a few days now, reaching the mountain terrains. At first, there were tensions between the thirteen men. Gendry with the Brotherhood without Banners and the Wildlings with Jorah. Tormund most likely growling at him now and then. If it wasn't for Jon telling the men to get along, what was the point of this expedition? Soon, words were starting to be exchanged. Jorah being somewhat of an introvert at the moment, only knowing two of the men in the group kept to himself. He listens, though, in case the conversation comes back to him.

Up ahead was Gendry, Tormund, and Jon Snow.

"You all right?" Jon asked Gendry

The young man nodded.

"Ever been north before?" Tormund asked.

"Never seen snow before," Gendry answered.

"Beautiful, eh?" Tormund asked. "I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit."

"You've never been down south," Jon reminded.

"I've been to Winterfell," Tormund said.

"That's the North," Jon corrected.

Tormund blew a raspberry.

"How did you live up here?" Gendry asked, trying to catch his breath. "How do you keep your balls from freezing off?"

"You got to keep moving. That's the secret," Tormund answered. "Walking's good, fighting's better, and fucking's best."

Jorah held back a snort when hearing that.

"There's not a living woman within a hundred miles of here," Jon reminded playfully.

Tormund looked at the two young men, "We have to make do with what we've got."

Gendry stopped for a moment grasping what the Free Folk said, as Jon and Tormund continued onward. The young blacksmith turned to Jorah. Bear Island in the winter, was basically just like the climate here. Just because the small island is in the Sunset Sea and south from the Frozen Shore, it was still a bitter winter. Summer Snow was a blessing, but during the actual Winter years, it was basically just like this. And the statement of keeping warm Tormund said is still passed on, Jorah believed that is how a lot of babies are conceived, in the late winter. But assuming Tormund was joking about buggery, patted Gendry's shoulder and gestured him onward.

"Just keep moving," Jorah told Gendry.

They soon caught up with Jon and Tormund.

"So, you met this Dragon Queen, huh?" Tormund asked. "And?"

"She'll fight beside us," Jon assured. "But her sister will only fight beside us if I bend the knee."

"You spent too much time with the Free Folk. Now you don't like kneeling," Tormund said. "Mance Rayder was a braver man. A proud man. The-King-beyond-the-Wall never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?"

Jorah was curious about what happened a few years ago. But listening to the tone of Tormund's voice he decided not to ask questions. Maybe discuss it with Jon in private the next time they made camp. Time continued onward. Jorah was listening to Gendry talking to Sandor, Beric, and Thoros explaining what happened to him when the brotherhood sold him to the Red Woman. He had to agree with Sandor; the young man was whining or _whinging_ as the Hound puts it. Although, Jorah would agree about not wanting to have leeches on him while having sex. Then again, he recently had a dagger pressed against his throat.

Time continued onward, as the grey skies started to grow darker. Jon caught up with Jorah as they walked ahead. They were silent for a moment until Jon finally spoke.

"The first time I went north of the Wall was with your father," Jon said.

"He was a good man. He deserved a better son," Jorah agreed, then glance at Jon. "Were you with him at the end?"

"I was a prisoner of the wildings," Jon confessed sadly. "But we avenged him. I want you to know that. Every mutineer found justice."

Jorah nodded, "Can't think of a worse way for him to go. The Night's Watch was his life. He would have died to protect every one of those men. And they butchered him."

"I hate that he died that way," Jon agreed. "My father was the most honorable man I ever met. He was good all the way through. And he died on the executioner's block."

"Your father wanted to execute me, you know," Jorah told him.

"I heard," Jon replied.

"He was in the right, of course. Didn't make me hate him any less."

"I'm glad he didn't catch you."

"Me, too."

It seems like they were getting along. Jorah listens to every detail, wondering if Jon Snow knew of his parentage. Based on the young king's statements, he still believes he is Ned Stark's bastard. Maybe he is. But it does not explain the face of Rhaegar since the Starks haven't married any Targaryen or Valyrian. The farthest south, a Northman married from the mainland was from the Vale of Arryn and the Riverlands. Otherwise, the majority of the Northmen have married other descendants of the First Men. The men grew tired and weary, deciding it was best to stop to make camp for the night.

Jon pulled Jorah to the side while the men made camp. Once at a distance to have privacy, he spoke while removing his belt, "Your father gave me this sword. Changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf . . . but it's still Longclaw,"

As Jon handed over the Valyrian steel to Jorah. The older knight took hold of the blade, agreeing the pommel has changed, but it was still ivory carved to a predatory animal of the North, from bear to wolf with red bead eyes. He lifted the blade just a bit, examining the blade with three fullers incised along with the dark ripple steel. The last time Jorah held Longclaw was the night he relinquished his titles and lands for being charged for slavery. A long dreadful debate of taking the blade with him or leave it behind for a worthy wielder. It appears he made the right decision.

"Lord Commander Mormont thought you'd never come back to Westeros." Jon continued. "But you are back, and it's been in your family for centuries. It's not right for me to have it.

Jorah stared at Longclaw deep in thought. If he had returned to Westeros once he'd received his pardon, he would have simply accepted the blade. But Jorah knew he was not worthy of the sword. Not after what he has done. Even during his redemption starting at Vas Dothrak with the Targaryen Sisters, the weight of his sins wasn't enough. Let alone, when Longclaw was left at Mormont Keep, Maege gave it back to Jeor, knowing his aunt was not a sword maiden, nor was her only daughter. Jeor was a stubborn bear; he wouldn't give up the sword so easily.

"He gave it to you," Jorah said, staring into Jon's dark eyes.

"I'm not his son," Jon disagreed.

Jorah examined the blade one last time, "I brought shame onto my house. I broke my father's heart." He then secured it back in the scabbard and returned it to Jon. "I forfeited the right to claim this sword. It's yours. May it serve you well. . . and your children after you."

Jon accepted the sword, surprised.

Before he could say anything, Jorah left to help the men make camp.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

The next day they continue their search. They were trying to reach the area near Hardhome. Hopefully, some of the Army of the Dead would be roaming about. Tormund believes so. Letting the dead rot, a bit to terrify the masses. Jon sighed, trying not to think about that. He felt some guilt not being able to rescue all the Free Folk who were waiting at Hardhome. Karsi the spearwife being one. She stayed during the battle to help the wounded, yet she died because she couldn't will herself to kill wights who took the form of children. Out of the Karsi family, her daughters survived, which Tormund assured they were in good hands.

Lord Beric climbed up to him over the hill. The elder man staring at Jon's face as if trying to find something. He had noticed Ser Jorah and Queen Alysanne having that inspecting look. As if trying to find a face of the past and not getting the answer.

"You don't look much like him," Lord Beric noted.

"Who's that?" Jon asked.

"Your father," Beric answered.

Jon sighed, assuming he took more after his mother.

"I suppose you favor your mother," Beric assumed.

"You knew him?" Jon asked.

"' Course I did," Beric answered. "When he was Hand, he sent me off hunting for the Mountain. Your wildling friend told me the Red Woman brought you back. Thoros has brought me back six times. We both serve the same lord."

Jon shook his head. He did not worship the Lord of Light. Growing up, he was raised by the Old Gods. Made his vows in front of a Weirwood tree. Although, lately, he hasn't been genuinely religious. Not since making his vows and seeing the dark side of humanity. Also, it surprised him he wasn't the only one brought back to life. Alysanne and now Lord Beric. Who else has this Lord of Light brought back? Then again, he doesn't trust this deity, since what kind of god demands to burn a child alive? If this was Beric's way trying to recruit him, then he will sadly be a disappointment.

"I serve the North," Jon reminded.

"The North didn't raise you from the dead," Beric countered.

"The Lord of Light never spoke to me," Jon said. "I don't know anything about him. I don't know what he wants from me."

"He wants you alive," Beric said.

"Why?" Jon asked.

Beric gave a tired smile in understanding, "I don't know."

Jon gave somewhat of a smile, "That's all anyone can tell me_— 'I don't know_.' So, what's the point in serving a god if none of us knows what he wants?"

"I think about that all the time," Beric replied, amused. "I don't think it's our purpose to understand. Except for one thing – we're soldiers. We have to know what we're fighting for. I'm not fighting some man or woman I barely know can sit on a throne made of swords."

The two of them stop.

"So, what are you fighting for?" Jon asked.

"Life," Beric answered, then looked at him thoughtfully. "Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last."

Jon was confused by that statement, "But we all die."

Beric's lips twitched up, "The enemy always wins. And we still need to fight him. That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we're here, but we can keep others alive. We defend those who can't defend themselves."

Jon paused, thinking about a verse in his vows, "I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

"Maybe we don't need to understand any more than that," Beric smiled proudly. "Maybe that's enough."

"Aye," Jon nodded. "Maybe that's enough."

They continue walking, catching up with the group until escaping another terrain to a small valley where there was a mountain on the other side. Sandor who stood at the front next to Thoros squinted his eyes looking up again.

"That's what I saw in the fire," Sandor pointed out. "A mountain like an arrowhead."

"Are you sure?" Thoros asked.

Sandor looked at the Red Priest, "We're getting close."

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

"Alright, let's try this again," I told Viserion.

I was out on the field with Viserion doing more dragon training. Preparations for battles and training Viserion keep me occupied in the day while at night I go through the library trying to discover how to resurrect the dragons. The Targaryens must have written it down in how to revive the dragons without requiring blood magic. Unless Aegon the Third was genuinely traumatized by the dragons that he wiped away all of their existence. The Dance of Dragons left only three to survive, and the fourth, the Last Dragon was so sickly it died so young. Some would say, Aegon III let the Last Dragon die. But could you blame him, when his uncle Aegon II stole his mother Rhaenyra birthright and killed her by being burned alive and fed to Sunfyre.

Anyway, I got on Viserion's back as he took off to the sky and flew low near the water, almost touching it. Once Viserion found balance along with the winds, I carefully remove the harness and slowly stood upon his shoulders. I stumbled yet managed to catch myself and secure my footing like the Dothraki. After a moment, I officially stood and ever so slowly began to walk along Viserion spine. Sometimes using his spikes as added support. Cautiously, I walked downward until reaching the base of the tail. Taking a deep breath, I began walking on it about five feet in, having my arms spread out for balance.

I chuckle.

_There you go,_ Visenya said. _Together you are one._

"That we a- "Before I could vanish, Viserion did a sharp turn causing me to fall off.

I fell into the water, luckily near the beach and fortunately, I wasn't wearing any armor. Unfortunately, with winter here, the water was cold, giving a rude awakening. Along with Visenya laughing in my head. It was a good thing I knew how to swim, mainly taught by Hosts who live on the island. I glared up at the ocean feeling through the dragon spell; the golden beast was laughing.

Nothing to do in the water, I swam back to shore trying to think of the perfect revenge. No doubt Viserion knocked me down on purpose. By the time I got to shore, Daenerys was there with an amused look on her face.

"Don't say anything," I grumbled.

"Say what?" She asked innocently. "That Viserion pulled a prank on you."

I scowled at her in which she chuckled. Unable to resist the temptation, I walked over and hugged her. She shrieked, trying to pull away from my grasp, yet I held tight. Allowing my drenched clothes to soak into her own. Dany shrieked from the cold water and managed to escape my grasp.

"Enough, let's get you dressed and freshen up." She said, though still smiling.

I sighed in defeat, as we went back to the castle. There Missandei drew a bath, allowing me to wash my body and hair before changing into fresh clothes. Afterward, I went into the Chamber of the Painted Table, seeing the battle plans ready for King's Landing. Only six more months before the invasion. I pray to the Seven that Jorah and Jon can find two wights and make it back in time. A cough caught my attention, as I turn around to see Lord Tyrion sitting by the fireplace, as usual, drinking wine.

"Do you know what I like about you?" I murmured, as I walked over and leaned near the fire feeling its warmth.

"I honestly don't," Tyrion replied.

"You're not a hero," I said.

"Oh. Well, I've been heroic on occasions." He said. "I once charged through the Mud Gate of King's Landing and –"

"I don't want you to be a hero," I interrupted then took a seat across from him. "Heroes do stupid things, and they die. "Rhaegar, Drogo, Jorah, Daarrio, and Jon Snow. They all try to outdo each other. Who can do the stupidest, bravest thing?"

"It's interesting, these heroes you name," Tyrion murmured. "Rhaegar, Drogo, Jorah, Daario, even this Jon Snow. . . They all fell in love with you and your sister."

"I doubt Jon Snow hold's interest," I scoffed.

"Oh, my mistake. I suppose he stares at Daenerys longingly because he's hopeful for a successful military alliance," he said.

I scoffed, "As if marriage by alliance does any good. They end up dead."

Drogo and Hizdahr were the prime examples of that.

Changing the subject, "I know you're brave. Bravery comes in different shapes and sizes. I wouldn't have chosen a coward as my Hand."

Tyrion gave a small smile.

"So, if all goes well, I'll finally get to meet your sister. From everything you've told me about her, she'd rather murders me than speak with me."

Tyrion set his wineglass on the table, "Oh, first she'd torture you in some horrible way then she'd murder you. Nobody trusts my sister less than I do, believe me... But if we go to the capital, we'll go with two armies; we'll go with three dragons. Anyone touches you, King's Landing burns down to the foundation stones."

"And right now, she's thinking of how to set a trap," I concluded.

"Of course, she is. And she's wondering what trap you're laying for her."

"Are we? Laying any traps?"

Tyrion stared at me as he scratched his hand, contemplating. He sighed. "If we want to create a new and better world, I'm not sure deceit and mass murder is the best way to start."

"Which war was won without deceit and mass murder?" I logically asked, with a playful smirk.

"Yes, you'll need to be ruthless if you're going to win the throne," Tyrion agreed. "You need to inspire a degree of fear. But fear is all Cersei has. It's all my father and Joffrey had. It makes their power brittle because those beneath them longs to see them dead."

"You are right," I agreed. "My ancestors, Aegon Targaryen, got quite a long way on fear. And his son Maegor did the same."

"They did," Tyrion agreed. "But what is it that you want? Are you trying to break the wheel? Aegon built the wheel. If that's the kind of Queen you want to be, how are you different from all the other tyrants that came before you?"

"I told you before; the wheel cannot be broken. Most people think of a wheel made of wood or iron, or steel. If it breaks, it can be replaced. If it is destroyed, a new one is made. Aegon made the wheel out of Valyrian steel. It can't be broken. And based on the accounts of the noble lords, they are not ready for change."

Westeros is not ready for democracy. I will make changes to the monarchy, so the people are not silenced by the Noble Houses. But those Noble Houses are the true enemy when it comes to change. I agree there are some traditions that should remain, for they are part of our culture. However, other traditions need to die out.

"What agreement did your brother make for the armistice if Ser Jorah and King Snow returned?" I asked while standing up, walking over to the balcony.

"My brother promised me he'd keep a grip on the Lannister forces." He answered.

"I have a hard time believing that, since the past fifty years, the Lannisters haven't kept their promises unless it's paying a debt. How does the saying go, 'A Lannister always pays his debts'? Out of the three leading lions, you're the only one I trust."

"And I promised him I'd keep you from doing anything impulsive." He replied.

"You're referring to my sister," I warned.

Tyrion stood up as he walked over to the table, still keeping a distance. "This will be a difficult negotiation. We're sitting down with people who want to see us both headless. My sister is likely to say something provocative."

"And?" She asked.

"You know how to face insults and keep a gambling face. And Daenerys has been known to lose her temper from time to time, as all great leaders do." He answered. "After all, she is the Queen of the Dothraki."

"And I haven't lost my temper?" I asked.

"From the time I've met you until now, you don't retaliate when things don't go your way in a snap. Yes, there were moments you yelled, but after a deep breath and listening to your advisors, you've proven yourself. For instance, you did not burn the Tarlys."

"The Tarlys are a respected house and would be of good use for the Great War to come. Holding them hostage, allows me control of the southern part of the Reach." I said. "Unless Lord Willas decides a suitable fate for their treason."

"It's a good thing I have an advisor who knows how the enemy thinks," I murmured and turned to the window watching the horizon. "Westeros is different from what little perspective I saw so many years ago. Nor is the Dothraki, Warlocks, or Slavers. This war is not about human rights or claimant. It's about survival."

"You need to take your enemy's side if you're going to see things the way they do," Tyrion said, walking over. "And you need to see things the way they do, if you're going to anticipate their actions, respond effectively, and beat them. I want you to do very much. Because I believe in you and the world, you want to build. But the world you want to build doesn't get built all at once. Probably not in a single lifetime. How do we ensure that your vision endures?"

"My vision is a world of death," I whispered. "One I want to stop."

"And we will stop it," Tyrion assured. "But if we win, what comes afterward?"

I realized Tyrion was thinking of the long term, "You want to know who sits on the Iron Throne if I were to die again?"

"You are still unmarried and childless at the moment. You say Daenerys can't have children, but there are other ways of choosing a successor. The Night's Watch has one method. The Ironborn, for all their many flaws, have another."

I took a deep breath, "The next line of succession shall go to one with king's blood."

"Your Grace, a lot of Maekar's children… Daella and Rhae's bloodline died out during previous wars or married across the sea and have been lost to Westeros. The last five generations have been more female birth than male. It will be a political war of many women."

"Not unless I choose, and so far, only one house has earned their position for the succession. One that sees the change as I have wished for."

"You don't mean…"

I turned to face Tyrion, "If I were to die without an heir, and Daenerys dies from age, then the succession shall go House Martell. They are my cousins, though distant, they have dragon's blood."

"You have thought of this for some time," Tyrion noted amazed.

"I have," I murmured. "All I ever wanted was to go home. To get justice for all the wrongs and redeem the House Targaryens name. Lately, the desire to be Queen …is not the same as it used to be."

Tyrion stood there watching me with such amazement.

"I'm only human," I whispered. "Fire cannot harm me, but I can still bleed."

"Death made you wiser."

I shook my head.

Death is only the beginning.

Although, there might be one more dragon out there. As he travels beyond the wall in the far North as we speak. One with more dragon's blood but no name.

**.o0o.**

Later that night, Visenya allowed me to visit her in her dream. I was in the library, going over the original documents of old Valyria. I was on a ladder that was leaning on the wall along the tall shelves that had the scrolls. Scrolls that are currently absent in reality, either destroyed during the rebellion or withered away in the last three hundred years. I have three dragon eggs that have been petrified. I doubt there are any witches left to burn away. How Daenerys brought the dragons back…the world will never know.

"Can you tell me how to resurrect the dragon eggs?" I asked.

"Fire and blood," Visenya said from the bottom of the ladder arms crossed.

"I'm serious," I groaned.

"Well, while I was still alive, there were fresh dragon eggs. And the eggs decide its master," she said.

I sighed climbing down from the ladder.

She had an amused look at seeing how to determined I was. All I want is to bring back what has been lost. Sometimes I wonder if there had been no Doom in Valyria and by some miracle, my ancestors married the same people to have me. What would have my life been like in Valyria? Of course, Viserys and I would have been married, unless Rhaegar had arranged my marriage to a cousin or another Valyrian. But the dragons would still be alive…

"I also wonder what Valyria was like as well," Visenya said.

We walked along the castle walls contemplating everything that has happened. Talking to Visenya on plans and getting her perspective about things. Visenya was candor and frank; she was not like my other advisors who try to sugar coat things. I need a straightforward answer. It wasn't long when we reached the gardens. I stopped at the fountain, taking a seat and place my hand in the water.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a vision flashes before my eyes.

_It was the far North again. All around were mountains covered in snow. In the center was a lake, a frozen lake with a small island in the center. On it was six men. I recognize Jorah and King Snow amongst the group tired and frail. One man was dead, as his body was burned. However, they were not alone. Surrounding the lake was a horde of wights. All were observing and watching the remaining humans. A man massively tall with a scar on his face picked up a rock striking a wight in the head, breaking its jaw._

_"Dumb cunts," the man muttered._

_He took another rock and threw it. The rock bounces off the ice before sliding down to the wight with the broken jaw's feet. The ice was no longer thin. It was now solid. The wight looked down with its blue eyes, then glance back at the men. The man who threw the rock face dropped in the mistake he had made._

_"Oh, fuck," he whispered._

_The wight from earlier started walking along the ice. Not long after more join in approaching the living at a slow, steady pace. All the living drew their weapons, Jorah holding both sword and obsidian dagger. Jon took out his Valyrian sword, while another man with an eyepatch lit his blade ablaze. The others had axes and spears at the ready._

_The scarred man charged first, and the battle began. They had the upper hand attacking the wights that came closer. Although, the Night King who stood on the ledge with the rest of the white walkers had enough, sending the entire horde upon them. The massive growing dense, the six men were trying to fight them off. Except it was too much, their space was running out, no room to fight. They were surrounded, pressed together until the wights were ripping them from limb to limb or stabbing them repeatedly. All of them dying._

_Then the wights pulled back revealing the five bodies that were forced in a pile. Their furs covered in in blood and puncture marks. The Night King came down from the ledge, approaching the fallen warriors. He stood over Jon Snow, staring down at an old enemy. He knelt, taking the Valyrian sword and examined it. Placing a hand on the pommel freezing the carved wolf until it shatters into a million pieces and forms a crystal orb at the end. Afterward, he reached out and snapped his fingers. All five decease men eyes open, revealing icy blue orbs. Jorah's eyes no longer the shade of the ocean. His face nearly scratched off and bloody._

_And they all stood to be one of the Army of the Dead._

I gasped snapping from the vision.

Visenya rests her hand on my shoulder, bracing me. As she gestured to the water, revealing what I saw in the fountain.

"You must wake and go to them," Visenya said. "If you don't, then all is lost."

Before I could respond, she tapped my forehead, waking me from my slumber. I shot up awake, barely grasping breath as I jumped out of bed. It was still early hours, but I did not care as I called out to Missandei whose room was on the same floor as I. While waiting for her, I went through the wardrobe pulling out my winter attire in need for the journey North.

Along with telling the guards who were posted at the door to tell the Dragon keepers to put Viserion's saddle on. That I'll be flying at once, the Unsullied nodded as he rushed out of the room to do as I command. Just as he left Missandei entered the room.

"You call, Your Grace," Missandei greeted.

"I need your help; I must go North at once," I told her.

"Is that wise?" She asked.

"It is, it's a life and death situation," I answered.

Missandei nodded not asking any more questions as she helped me change into the proper winter attire, from the underclothes to the black fur coat lined with red. Underneath the furs, I made sure to put on the breastplate and gambeson. During the time, Missandei braided my hair and put it in a style that won't tangle in the winds.

"What's going on?" Daenerys asked as she entered the room.

I looked at her through the reflection of the mirror, "I had a vision of Jorah and King Snow dying in the North. I must go before it happens."

Daenerys's eyes widen in shock. "Let me go with you."

"No, you stay and prepare for the battle," I said.

"Alys, Jorah is my family too," she said.

"Dany," I pleaded.

"We're stronger together," she reminded.

Knowing she has a point, I conceded, "Very well, get dressed. We leave within the hour."

Daenerys nodded as she left. Missandei finished doing my hair and left to help Daenerys prepare. Still rushing with adrenaline, I grabbed my sword and satchel, before going to the kitchen having the kitchen staff provide the provisions. The cooks gave bread and dry meats along with four waterskins filled with water and wine. I thanked the cook and headed out.

As I reach the courtyard, Daenerys was there along with Ser Barristan and Lord Tyrion. We ignored them as we made our way to the field where the dragons resided.

"What's going on?" Ser Barristan asked.

"I had a vision; the expedition will fail," I answered. "We're heading north before it is too late."

"You can't," Tyrion called out, trying to catch up. "The most important person in the world can't fly off to the most dangerous place in the world."

"Who else can?" Daenerys asked.

"No one," Tyrion answered. "They knew the risks when they left. You can't win the throne if you're dead. You can't go home if you're dead."

Daenerys climbed onto Drogon.

Meanwhile, I stopped in front of Viserion facing them, "So, what would you have me do?"

"Nothing," Tyrion answered then pleaded, keeping to his distance. "Sometimes, nothing is the hardest thing to do. If you die, we're all lost. Everyone, everything."

"You told me to do nothing before, and I listened to you. I'm not doing nothing again," she said. "You need to understand the Great War that is to come."

"Alysanne," Ser Barristan spoke up.

"Ser Barristan, you and Missandei have control over Dragonstone. If Daenerys and I are unable to return within the month, begin the invasion. Cersei Lannister cannot rule the Seven Kingdoms."

With nothing else to say, I climbed on top of Viserion and secured the harness to the saddle. I glance at Daenerys, who was ready as well. Nodding back to her, the dragons went towards the edge of the cliff and took off to the sky. North is where we are going.

I will not lose the man I love and my possible nephew.

Not again.

* * *

**What do you guy's think? What will happen next?**

**Also, I have two new GOT stories that may be of interest:**

**_The Other Lannister Sister_: Many years after the death of his wife Lady Joanna, Tywin Lannister remarried to Lady Anne of House Serrett who provided him two more children. Lynette Lannister shall tell you her side of the story during Game of Thrones. As the Other Lannister Sister. P.S. Tybalt will pop up now and then too.**

**_Warg Maiden:_ She was intended to be the next Three-Eye Raven, a warg from the Dire Tribe. But she was more wolf than a raven. A hunter rather than an observer. Rejected from her true fate, Imogen must take the knowledge she has gained from the Children to stop an imminent threat, the White Walkers. However, a Crow is in the way.**

**Please note, I have _Sister's Keeper_ and coming to a near end to _A Doe in a Lion's Den._ Once I have ADIALD done will the new stories get more chapters. I hope you enjoy the series. Thank you all for your support.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**!


	73. Chapter 73: The Frozen Lake

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 73: The Frozen Lake**

_Beyond the Wall_

It was a moderate blizzard. Moderate to those who live below the Wall. As Tormund and his Free Folk friends says it's not too light and it's not too hard. If it were severe, the snow would be drowning you as you stand and the ice cutting your face. However, it was almost impossible to see. You could barely see anything that is ten feet around you. The party stood together in the direction they believe was north. Praying that the blizzard shall pass by or come across a cave. Unfortunately, they were on a flat plain.

Tormund stopped Jon noticing something in the far distance breaking the horizon of white. It was a grey mass. It took the men a moment to realize what the mass was a bear. One of the wildlings walked ahead to see how far it was.

"Look!" Tormund said.

"A bear," Sandor declared.

"Big fucker," Tormund noted.

The bear stopped and turned its head toward them. Normally in its silhouette, there should be nothing to see out of the ordinary. However, something was off about this one. Jorah and Tormund had their experience with bears. Black bears, brown bears, and white polar bears. No matter their size and color of their furs, there is one feature that doesn't change for any species of bears and that is their eyes. There were only two types of color eyes a bear would have, brown or black. Red for the exotically rare albino…but otherwise, never in their lives have they seen a bear with icy blue eyes.

"Do bears have blue eyes?" Gendry asked Jorah.

The bear grunted charging its way over to them. The wildling who was ahead noticed this, turning around and ran for his life to join the others. The party drew their weapons, ready to attack, except the blizzard became denser, causing the bear to vanish from sight they were only able to see their comrade. It was when the wildling was twenty feet away; the dead bear appeared out of nowhere tackling the Wilding down and biting his head off. The others rushed in to save him, but they were already too late. The only thing they could do is kill the bear before it attacks them. By the time they got there, there was nothing but a spear and a puddle of blood.

Jon got there first panted, confused by all this. Cautious, the men gather around forming a circle. Their senses were over powered, as they could only see snow and white, the wind screaming in their ears, and the smell of furs from their winter attire. They were blind. Suddenly the dead bear appeared, roaring as it crushed down on another Wildling landing center of the circle. It bit into the wildlings back, tossing him about before lifting his rotten muzzle roaring at everyone. A Brother rushed in trying to cut it with his ax, only to smacked away.

Lord Beric and Thoros lit their swords charging forward while Sandor checked on their injured comrade. The Lord of Light worshipers rushed in as the dead bear stood on its hind legs roaring at them. Distracted by the flames, a Wilding came forward about to stab it, except the bear caught him biting his arm, banding him against the hard earth before tossing him away. The wildling threw thirty feet before landing on his neck, dying instantly. Lord Beric stabbed the bear, igniting the beast aflame. The bear screamed in pain, smacking Beric aside before charging at Sandor.

Sandor was caught in the fire spell, seeing the beast on fire bringing back horrible memories of his brother. He was petrified, unable to move, when Thoros rushed in, shoving Sandor away and try to stab the beast in the head. The creature was massive to the Myrman. It used its weight to smash Thoros to the ground, who managed to get his sword between its mouth and using all his strength to get the sharp teeth away. Tormund came in, smashing his ax on the bear's shoulder, yet the bear smacked him away going back towards Thoros. Sandor was on the ground still petrified by the fire, unable to move. The bear bit the blade in two, before biting into Thoros's shoulder thrashing him about.

Jorah, remembering he had his Dragonglass dagger, ran forward and stabbed the beast in the back. It only took one stab, as the bear streak in agony before dropping dead. Gendry and Thoros rushed in, dragging Thoros away so he wouldn't burn with the bear. At a safe distance, Beric knelt to see his friend's condition. Finding bite marks from his chest and shoulders. Jorah came over seeing Thoros was in no condition to continue.

"We have to get him back to Eastwatch," Jorah advised.

Thoros shook his head, "Flask."

Gendry searched for Thoros's flash and gave it to the Priest. Thoros took a couple of gulps before nodding to Beric to do it. Beric nodded, bringing the flaming sword to Thoros's chest and cauterized the wound. The sound of skin sizzling could be heard along with the Priest groaning in pain. Once the wounds were sealed, Beric pulled the flaming sword away and corrected his friend's clothes.

"You all right?" Beric asked.

"I just got bit by a dead bear," Thoros muttered.

"Aye, you did," Beric chuckled in agreement.

Thoros almost laughed, "Funny old life."

Thoros raised a hand which Beric took helping him up, "Right, then."

Jon sighed as he came over to Tormund who was examining for life in his friend. Sadly, the Wilding was dead, as a piece of his spine stuck out. They looked up seeing the bear tracks. As the storm keeps passing, the trail will vanish in minutes. Only the directions where the bear was coming from was their only lead. So, after burning the dead, they headed in that direction.

**.o0o.**

It wasn't long when they reached the other side of the field, reaching the base of the arrowhead mountain. They walk in a straight line, climbing what almost resembles an abandoned trail — hoping to get more ground before nightfall. Thoros tagged along the back, still exhausted from being wounded while keeping his flask close in hand. Taking small sips now and then to keep warm, since the blood that coated his chest was now cold. Jorah walked beside his old comrade, trying to cheer him up with tales from old times.

"Something I've always wanted to know," Jorah started.

"All right," Thoros replied.

"How drunk were you when you charged through the breach of Pyke?" Jorah asked.

"If I'm being honest, I don't remember charging through the breach," Thoros answered. "Some of the lads told me about it the next morning." He stopped for a moment to put his flask away but struggled. "Sounded like a good scrap."

Jorah, being considerate, helped secured the flask on the belt. "Aye. It was a proper scrap. The Ironborn thought you were some kind of god, the way you were waving that flaming sword. I thought you were the bravest man I ever saw."

Thoros gave a slight scoff, "Just the drunkest."

Then nudged Jorah as they began to walk. "Though, did my vision come true?"

"And what vision is that?" Jorah asked, assuming he meant reading the flames.

"That you will have a girl made of fire?" Thoros asked. "Or was it _fuck_ a girl of fire? I can't remember."

Jorah paused, trying to recall what he meant. Then he remembers a few nights before the breach of Pyke on a ship sailing way. Thoros was drinking, wailing about the Lord of Light, when he stopped suddenly, gazing at a torch he was holding. They were all drunk at different levels, but Thoros sobered up suddenly in the direction of Jorah saying about a quest to find a lady of fire. Jorah never truly thought about it, thinking the drunkard was talking about a woman whose hair was kissed by fire. Now that he thinks about it, Alysanne and Daenerys were immune by fire and have their own.

Jorah paused, looking at Thoros as the Red Priest continued. What was with the R'hllor faith wanting from him and Alysanne? First the Yiitish priestess in Volantis and now Thoros? He tried to remember what the woman said. "The Seed of Ice for the Womb of Fire. A dynasty like no other." Whatever does that mean? He will have to ask Thoros the next time they make camp.

Ahead of the line, Tormund leads with Jon right behind him. Tormund paused, stopping the line for he thought he heard something. Everyone went silent as they listen. They recognized the sound to be metal clanking. Tormund and Jon had the others wait as they went ahead to investigate. On top of a cliff, they looked down to seeing wights making their way dragging their weapons along the rocky terrain. Up ahead was a White Walker leading the group. They pulled back looking at each other.

"Where's the rest of them?" Jon whispered.

Tormund shrugged, "If we wait long enough, we'll find out."

Jon nodded as they went back to join the others. They came up with a plan, as Tormund remembers there's a lake at the end of the ravine. They can trap the wights there and kill off the rest leaving two alive. There was one slight problem. There was a White Walker in the group. The only thing that can kill a White Walker was Dragonglass and Valyrian Steel. They were short on the dragonglass since Gendry made it under short notice; also the only Valyrian Steel they had was Longclaw. So, they have to kill the leader as quickly as possible and immobilize the wights until they can finish them off. So, coming up with a plan, they rush to the end of the ravine to set up the trap.

**.o0o.**

The White Walker let his group to the end of the ravine. It was a simple scouting mission since he noticed a disturbance in the Dead Bear. As he reached the edge, he noticed a small campfire that was still ablaze. Seeing the fire was fresh, he assumed the humans can't be far and were scavenging the area for food. He looked up to see if the humans were fishing since there was a running streak.

Suddenly the humans appeared out of nowhere, some with flaming swords charging towards them. Jon appeared from the opposite side, right behind the white walker going for the kill. The White Walker turned around, blocking the attack as the ice sword collided with the Valyrian steel. Meanwhile, the men continue to fight the wights. One Wight disarmed Ser Jorah, putting him in a chokehold. Everyone was too occupied to help him. Jon took a couple of strikes, as Longclaw hacked away from the ice blade, and one swing through the White Walker was shattering him to pieces.

Immediately the wights stopped falling into pieces or turning to dust, except for three that were confused. The White Walker in the group did not create these three wights. The three were screeching and snarling at them. Carefully the men corralled the wights trying to take them down to tie them up. One lunged forward, out of instincts, a Brother from the Brotherhood cut it in half. Tormund having an idea, dropped his ax. The two wights seeing him defenseless charged in, only to be punched in the face and knocked down. Sandor rushed in pinning the wights while the others came in tying it up. The Wight thrashed, until giving a deafening screech for a long period of time, the second one did as well. Sandor quickly broke the first jaw while his other hand yanks the other's tongue out.

Jon having an experience with animals from hunting with his father and Farlen the kennel master who explains animals when lost or scared, will call out to their group for help. There was a distant sound of rumbling that caught Jon's attention as he looked across the stream. The sounds of footfalls and thundering. The men heard this too, as they looked up through an opening of the ravine, spotting an avalanche. However, it was not an avalanche, as Jon remember Hardhome, it was a stampede. He went over to Gendry and another wildling.

"Run back to Eastwatch," Jon ordered. "Get a raven to Alysanne and tell her what's happened."

"I'm not leaving you," Gendry said.

"You two have a better chance," Jon said. "Go now!"

The wildling nodded, grabbing Gendry by the arm to lead. Tormund stopped them will quick grabbing hold of Gendry's Warhammer.

"You're faster without the hammer. Give it," Tormund advised. "Give it."

Gendry was sentimental of the weapons he forges for himself. But realizing the hammer will weigh him down, he conceded giving it to Tormund. Tormund nodded in appreciated before the wildling comrade grabbed Gendry leading the way back to Eastwatch. They went their separate ways as they ran for their lives while dragging the two wights. They were lost in their run; they almost ran into the lake if Jorah hadn't yelled for them to stop. The ice was cracking beneath their feet but hasn't collapsed under them yet. They stayed still, trying to figure out how to get out. Regrettably, they turned around seeing a horde of wights making their way over through the ravine.

"Go!" Jon yelled.

All were taking the risk; they ran as fast as they could across the lake. The sound of ice cracking under their feet along with the snarling horde. The horde circled around the lake, trapping them, while another group tried to catch up. They reached the island in the middle drawing their weapons. The horde that followed from behind stepped on a weak spot on the ice and fell into the frozen lake. Many more fell in, that they immediately stopped circling their pray about a hundred or so feet in radius. The men panted, realizing they were safe for now, but they were now trapped.

**.o0o.**

Gendry and the Wilding had dropped their weapons except for daggers and ran for their lives heading south. The Wilding being a native of these parts, knew where they were going, how to get South. They ran on, not stopping even as they left the arrowhead mountains behind them. Through the field and to the next range of mountains. Only stopping for a moment to catch their breath, before running again. Their legs hurt, lungs burning, while stomachs beg for food. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but for how long. Gendry was suffering inside, while his wildling companion, who held experience of this environment tried to encourage him onward.

They were a week away from the Wall. Gendry believes they can make it in time. However, the Wilding knowing the Army the Dead, knew there was no hope for their friends. The best they could do is get back to the Wall and warn the others.

The next day, they reached the other side of the mountain, when the Wilding lost his footing on a slick of ice and fell. Gendry tried to grab him, but he was too late as the Wilding fell off the mountain plummeting towards his death. The Bastard didn't know what to do, yet he regretted the decision as he continues to run. He runs faster and harder, yet his legs started to feel like lead. Just as he reached the bottom, his legs gave away, falling into the snow. Gendry tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't move. The snow came, and sight began to fade in the storm. He cursed, desperately trying to get up.

Then there was a sound of footsteps, more like hooves. Gendry musters the strength to look around, thinking it was a Wight on a dead horse. Instead, he saw a man. For a second Gendry thought it could be a ranger, as the man was wearing black. It was Benjen Stark, though Gendry did not know that, as the man came over.

The young man tried to speak, but he couldn't. Benjen having sensed what was going on, didn't need an explanation, as he helped Gendry up on his horse and aided the young man back to Eastwatch.

**.o0o.**

Meanwhile, the evening was fast approaching as the nights grew colder and the snow continued falling. Still, the wights remained still surrounding the lake, standing at attention watching them with icy blue eyes. The men stood or sat, keeping guard as the darkness came, and all they saw were blue eyes illuminating in the darkness. Sometime in the night, they huddle, backs together while keeping guard.

When dawn came, the wights had pulled back to the edge of the lake. The two wights they have captured were snarling, still tied together and heads covered in sacks. Sandor annoyed by their growls and snarls stood up walking over, before kicking one causing it to screech. Instantly, all the wights in the horde snarled at them.

Everyone but Thoros got up grabbing their weapons. Beric noticed this, as he knelt towards his friend checking on his condition, "Thoros? Thoros?"

Sadly, Thoros had passed away during the night. He had succumbed to his injuries and the cold. Beric realizing that, adjusted the cloak to cover his dear friend's face. Sandor knelt down beside Beric, staring at Thoros.

"They say it's one of the better ways to go," Sandor murmured.

To die in one's sleep.

Sandor then collected Thoros's weapons and flask before standing up.

"Lord of Light, show us the way," Beric prayed, resting Thoros hand over his heart. "Come to us in our darkness and lead Your servant into the light."

Sandor was about to take a swig, when Jon stopped him, trying to be mindful towards the dead. Sandor gave the King in the North a glare.

"We have to burn his body," Jon said.

Ser Jorah nodded, sad to lose a good comrade.

Jon took the flask and poured the alcohol over Thoros's body to use as an accelerant.

"We'll all be close behind him unless the Lord of Light is King enough to send us a bit of fire," Tormund sarcastically said.

Lord Beric drew his sword casting the spell to set his sword on fire and rest it on Thoros. It didn't take long for the body to catch flame and started to burn. Making sure the Red Priest doesn't become a member of the Army of the Dead, preventing the lands curse on him.

"Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness, for the night is dark and full of terrors." Lord Beric prayed, then extinguished his sword walking away.

Jorah stood there watching the body burn before glancing at Beric. Sorry for the man who lost his friend. Currently, they have a fire, but how long? Jon walked away, and Jorah followed after him.

"We'll all freeze soon. And so, will the water," Jorah told him then continued. "When you killed the white walker, almost all the dead that followed it fell. Why?"

Jon paused then looked ahead, "Maybe he was the one who turned them."

Jorah nodded, "We can go for the Walkers. Maybe we'll stand a chance."

"No," Jon disagreed, and glance at the two wights. "We need to get those things back with us."

Jorah shuddered, having a feeling that is not possible now.

"There's a raven flying for Dragonstone now," Jon reminded. "Alysanne is our only chance."

"No. There's another," Lord Beric said, joining them, pointing up ahead. "Kill him."

Upon the ridge was the Night King along with five of his generals.

"He turned them all," Beric said.

"You don't understand," Jon implored.

"The Lord brought you back," Beric said. "He brought me back. No one else. Just us."

_He brought Alysanne back,_ Jorah thought.

"Did he do it to watch us freeze to death?" Beric asked Jon.

Sandor joined them, "Careful, Beric. You lost your Priest. This is your last life."

"I've been waiting for the end for a long time," Beric assured. "Maybe the Lord brought me here to find it."

"Every lord I've ever met's been a cunt," Sandor countered. "Don't see why the Lord of Light should be any different."

Jon continues staring at the Night King praying that Gendry and the Wildling made it back to Eastwatch soon enough. A week…can they hold up for at least a week?

**.o0o.**

Benjen and Gendry soon came into sight of the Wall near the Eastwatch territory. Benjen stopped at the forest line allowing Gendry to get off. The last two days, the rider never stopped. Gendry tried to ask a few questions, but Benjen hardly answered.

"Here you go," Benjen said. "Hurry and send that raven."

"Where will you go?" Gendry asked.

"I need to help the others," Benjen said. "Help my nephew."

Gendry was going to say something when the sound of a roar caught their attention. Looking up ahead, his eyes widen, seeing three dragons flying over the Wall. Black, gold, and green, contrasting to the white environment. They continue flying passed them, as Gendry tried to call their attention but couldn't. The young man stood there wondering how Queen Alysanne and Princess Daenerys knew to be here if he didn't send a raven? Did Ser Davos send a raven after a long absence? Possibly. Gendry was going to turn to the ranger only to see the man galloping off.

Gendry sighed as he started to run back to Eastwatch.

**.o0o.**

Another day goes by in the cold. Thoros was nothing but ash and bone now. There was no wood on the island to start another fire. The only wood they had were the handles to most of the weapons, which they needed to defend themselves. They all waited. Sitting or standing as they stare out with the same scenery of wights.

Sandor stood on the edge as he picked up a rock and threw it across the lake. The rock struck a Wight, breaking his jaw off. The impact did nothing of a reaction, as the Wight merely stood there looking at him.

"Dumb cunt," Sandor muttered.

Jorah saw this and frowned. He thinks it's best not to instigate the wights. Let alone; the lake could be frozen by now. If there was a slip-up, the wights could begin the next attack. Ser Jorah started making his way towards the Hound, but the Hound picked up a larger rock and threw it again. The rock sailed across the air, striking the frozen lake before sliding towards the Wight that was injured earlier. This caught everyone's attention. The broken jaw Wight looked down and then back up at Sandor.

"Oh, fuck," Sandor whispered.

The broken jaw Wight started making his way across the frozen lake, dragging his sword along the ice. He walked twenty feet, securing that the ice was frozen enough before others began to join their dead friends' weapons at the ready. Jon stood up, unsheathing Longclaw. Jorah took out his second dragonglass dagger while holding the first as well. Sandor with Gendry's War hammer, Beric was igniting his sword, and so forth with the others.

"Fuck it," Sandor said, as he strikes first smashing the jawless Wight down crushing his head.

A Wight came forward which Jon cut in half. More kept coming as the men did their best to immobilize and destroy the wights. They fought hard, trying to keep the wights away. Beric, Jon, and Jorah were having it easy since their weapons can kill the wights officially. But the others struggle a bit. On occasion, Sandor smashing the ice creating craters that have the wights sinking to the ground. But as time went on, the wights were gathering closer limiting the space. One Wight got a hold of Jon, which Jorah rushed in stabbing it. Jon nodded in gratitude, reclaiming Longclaw.

Their Brotherhood comrade was soon caught off guard being pushed, pinned to the ground being stabbed to death. Jon saw this, ordering the men to fall back to the island trying to get to higher ground on the boulder. Tormund was about to do so when a Wight grabbed him, followed by more, as they struck him in the head with a hammer. Outnumbered, he was tackled to the ground as he shouted for help. Sandor grabbed Jorah's dagger and rushed in stabbing one of the wights and pulled Tormund up.

Meanwhile, Jon grabbed the two wights that were tied together dragging them up while the others continue to fight. As they reached the top of the island, one of the volunteer men rushed to help Jon. They continue to fight when the volunteer was grabbed by a Wight being pushed off the boulder. Jon tried to grab him but was too late, as the man fell into the horde being torn to pieces. Jon's eyes widen seeing this, panting, comprehending that they were not going to make it out of here alive. All because the Hound decided to throw a rock.

All who remain was Jon, Tormund, Ser Jorah, Sandor, and Lord Beric. Everyone else was dead. A simple expedition to get two wights was an utter failure. Lost in thought, a Wight passed through. It's snarling caught Jon's attention, yet was too slow as a knife stabbed him in the shoulder straight through the furs and leathers, along with another stab in his leg. He managed to cut the Wight with Longclaw and groaned.

This was it.

They were going to die.

Until Jon felt a familiar presence, the same presence he felt back in Dragonstone when he encountered Rhaegal on the cliffs. Something told him to duck, that he did so, as Rhaegal appeared over him breathing fire upon the wights. All the men duck, as Rhaegal passed overhead. They looked up seeing Drogon and Viserion flying around breathing fire around the wights. They circle around melting the ice around the island isolating the wights from the men.

Up in the sky, Alysanne and Daenerys were surprised to see the greater threat officially. They were the same creatures Alysanne saw in the House of the Undying and recurring nightmares. Meanwhile, Daenerys, realizing the greater threat, should have listened to her sister from the beginning. Daenerys had Drogon land curling around the boulder circling around the men while Alysanne took Viserion and Rhaegal to keep burning the wights.

Jon rushed in as Daenerys offered him a hand to get up. However, a Wight screeching caught his attention. He attacked, blocking the beast while the men quickly climbed up along with the two captured wights.

As this was happening, the Night King drew a spear out of his saddle and started making his way towards the ledge. He observed the dragons, following their fly pattern making a calculating decision as he aimed.

"Jon!" Ser Jorah called out to him to get on, as everyone was already on.

Alysanne noticed the Night King aiming his spear. She thought he was going to kill Drogon; she had Viserion rush in. The Night King threw the spear as Alysanne was about to shout _Dracarys_, yet stopped upon realizing the angle of the projectile was coming her way. Eyes widening, she forced Viserion to the side. Everything happens too fast, but not fast enough as the spear struck Viserion by the tail. Alysanne cried out from the pain in her spine, feeling like she was being stabbed because she was connected through her magic with Viserion and took away his pain. The sudden shock caused Viserion to lose his bearing as he fell to the ground.

All eyes widen thinking they were going to fall into their death. Jon thinking, he could come in to save her, ran out toward Viserion. Daenerys and Jorah's eyes widen in fear seeing Viserion crash into the side of the mountain. Jorah was about to get off except Tormund held him down.

One of the White Walkers went to grab another spear. Tormund spotted this and told Daenerys they needed to go. Jon saw this as well, as he began to run where Viserion was. He shouted at the others to go, to flee now, Daenerys nodded; except she couldn't abandon her sister. But knowing Alysanne, she had no choice and told Drogon to fly, ignoring the protest from Jorah.

Meanwhile, Alysanne groaned, catching her bearings before seeing Drogon taking off. She reconnected with Viserion, before looking up seeing the second spear flying through the air, almost striking Drogon. Not wasting another second, Viserion took off just as she spotted Jon still on the ice. Cursing, she had Viserion dive in grabbing Jon with his right talon and went straight into the sky.

Daenerys looked over her shoulder, sighing in relief to see Viserion back in the sky. Therefore, Alysanne was safe for now. But she couldn't see Jon. Unable to tell if Alysanne got him or did he die on the lake. Jorah noticed this as well and sighed in relief.

All three dragons made it out.

Now they need to get back to Eastwatch.

* * *

**So…what do ya think?**

**You've been waiting for this.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	74. Chapter 74: Mending Wounds

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

* * *

**Chapter 74: Mending wounds**

_Alysanne's POV_

I tried my best to keep the connection between Viserion and I. Forcing the pain that he endured onto my lower back so that he could concentrate during the flight. Yet, it was like ice lodged in my lower back. Throbbing now and then, either way, my mortal body can't handle it any longer during the half a day slight. I have to disconnect. I rubbed Viserion's shoulder, feeling guilty that I put him in harm's way.

The Night King aimed for Drogon…or at least that is what it looked like from the sky unless that spear was magical. If the spear struck Viserion in the vital regions while in a deep breath for fire, death would be inevitable. The encounter confirms my visions were real. Making it solid as stone and not ice.

We were in sight of the Wall when I disconnect from Viserion. He gave a groan of pain, which panged me for my familiar. At least it was his tail and not his chest or wings. Up ahead Drogon and Rhaegal flew to the other side of the Wall, while Viserion, who needed to land in order to get the weight off and proper balance, landed on the cursed side of the Wall. The landing was awkward, as he balanced and hopped on one foot since he was carrying for Jon Snow in his right talon. I held on tight due to the rough landing. Once on solid ground and at a complete stop, I petted Viserion's back one more time before getting off, and under to collect King Snow.

Viserion let go of the King in the North, finding the Northman unconscious. Limping over, I shook his shoulder, yet receive no response. Sighing, I smacked the young man, which worked as he woke up startled. I braced him, getting a good hold of his hand that held Longclaw.

"Easy now," I murmured.

"Where are we?" King Snow asked.

"On the cursed side of the Wall," I answered. "Viserion had to land so that we could disconnect." I then turned to my dragon. "Get to Dragonstone, rest; we will send a raven in an hour."

Viserion nodded as he nudged my shoulder before taking off back to Dragonstone.

"He can understand you?" King Snow asked.

"Yes," I answered. "He's intelligent, as long as the dragons are bonded, they are intelligent as any human…well most humans." I then turned to Jon. "What in Seven Hell were you thinking? You should have got on Drogon. That stunt you pulled could've cost you your life."

Jon sighed as he tried to stand up but failed as his leg gave way. Quickly I caught him as he put his weight onto me.

"I was trying to rescue you," he said. "Your dragon fell, and you crashed."

"Why must all men think that women are damsels," I muttered, then sighed. "I was perfectly fine. Viserion lost his bearings and recovered instantly."

King Snow only nodded.

I sighed when the sound of trotting caught out attention. Immediately we stood up straight drawing our swords. There a rider came forth with a horse. The rider got off and made his way over. His motion was more fluid to an actual human than a Wight. However, we don't know who side this individual belongs too. Was he a brother of the Night's Watch, a wilding, or what?

"When I last saw you, you were complaining of being better," the rider said. "Better at swords, than the others. Begging I take you on patrol."

King Snow paused and looked at the man, "Uncle Benjen."

The man lowered his hood and scarf that masked his face to reveal himself. He has sharp features and dark eyes and was very thin. But something was wrong, his face was grey, and cheeks blistered. He almost appeared to be dead. However, his eyes were not an icy blue.

"I don't understand," King Snow said. "We couldn't find you. Othro and Jafar Flower were found dead. I thought you died as well."

"I led a scouting party deep into the North to find white walkers," Benjen said. "They found us. A white walker stabbed me in the gut with a sword of ice. Left me there to die. To turn. The Children found me. Stopped the walker's magic from taking hold."

"How?" I asked.

"The same way they made the walkers in the first place. A shard of dragon glass plunged into my heart."

"Come with us," King Snow said to his uncle.

Benjen looked up at the Wall, "The Wall is not just ice and stone. Ancient spells were carved into its foundations. Strong magic to protect men from what lies beyond. And while it stands, the dead cannot pass." He then looked at us. "I cannot pass."

"So, was all this for not?" I asked.

"The Great War is coming, and I still fight for the living. They will try to pass the Wall upon finding Joramun's Horn. If the Night King gets his hand on it, then the Long Night begins." Benjen said as he placed a hand on King's Snow shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Jon, and I hope one day you get everyone together for the long night."

King Snow gave a small smile, "I promise."

"Well, you already got one ally who is pretty." Benjen jested.

King Snow flustered, "Uh, no, we're nothing like that. She is an ally."

Benjen nodded and looked at me, giving me a knowing look. Although I don't know what that knowledge is to be exact. But he knows something that King Snow and I don't know. Before I could ask him, he stared at his nephew.

"You better tend to your wounds," he said, giving a slight hug before returning to his horse.

"Where will you go?" King Snow asked.

"To the Fist of the First Men," Benjen answered as he got on. "The Three-Eyed Raven told me that is where it was last seen. I'll do what I can… as long as I can. I wish you both good fortunes."

He glances at us one more time, before riding back into the forest.

King Snow stepped forward but then fell groaning in pain. I rushed to his side, seeing blood staining his shoulder and leg. Knowing it was best to get him inside, I helped King Snow secure his sword, as I did with mine, and help him inside. It took a moment for the Men of the Night's Watch to open the gate, that allowed us through the dark tunnel. It was long, as King Snow put his weight over me, with an arm over the shoulder. He limped through until Ser Davos and a few of the Wildings rushed over collecting King Snow and helped us to the other side.

On the other side, I panted still feeling the ache on my lower back. No doubt the impact from the Night King spear left a mark on me. When the ballistic spear struck Drogon in the shoulder, Daenerys ended up with a bruise in the exact area. No doubt a bruise was forming where a tail would be if I were a dragon. Looking around, I saw Daenerys and Jorah rushing over to me. Instantly, Daenerys wrapped her arms around me in a hug, which caused us to fall over into the snow.

I groaned, feeling a shot of pain up my spine.

"Oh, sorry," Daenerys mumbled as she helped me up.

"Thanks," I said, getting back on my feet then face Jorah.

Many things have happened. He is probably not pleased with what happened at the Frozen Lake, how Viserion got hurt and the crashing into the mountains — coming here by impulse. However, if Daenerys and I did not arrive, then Jorah would have been one of the many wights. Unable to control myself, remembering the form of being mauled and the shade of blue in his eyes, I hugged him tightly. Jorah was surprised as he gave an oomph, before embracing me in return. Not a second later, our lips met. Both of us were close to the stranger, and yet we still survive.

When we pulled back, Jorah said, "It is time to go, Alysanne."

I turned around glancing at the Wall one last time, "Agreed, it is time to go."

Daenerys nodded as we made our way to the beach where the rowboats were waiting. There I saw the two wights being tied up and hooded. Joining us back was King Snow, Ser Davos, Gendry the blacksmith, and Sandor Clegane. Seeing the man who has been called the Hound. As much as this man is the brother who killed Rhaegar's family, I felt sorry for him when seeing the burn that scarred his face. Exhausted from many days of flying, we made do to the ship.

**.o0o.**

The men had taken King Snow to his quarters, while Daenerys and I took the main two quarters. Although we entered my chamber, as we stripped our winter gear and armor. I doubt Ser Barristan is pleased that I left Dragonstone with only my gambeson and breastplate. There was no time to be wearing full armor. In the end, there was damage as Daenerys took a look at my lower back.

"A bruise is forming," She said. "You need to take it easy. I'll see if there is some salve for later."

"I would appreciate it," I replied, as I corrected my clothes to cover myself.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me," Jorah answered.

"Come in," I said.

Jorah entered the room, no longer in his winter coat and armor. He held a concerned look, indicating someone is severely injured than expected.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Jon Snow was badly injured than he let on," Jorah answered. "He needs stitching in his shoulder and leg; otherwise, he may bleed out or the wound to fester."

We were already on the ship and setting sail South. There was no time to go back to Eastwatch for the Maester to take a look.

"Alysanne, can't you stitch him?" Daenerys asked.

"I've never stitched human flesh before," I replied.

"But you did with fresh leather and animal skin." Daenerys reminded. "I'm sure you are capable of mending his flesh."

I sighed then looked at Jorah, "You better get him some strong wine or ale before I stitch him."

Jorah nodded as he went to do so. Daenerys and I left our cabin, as we headed to the ship's infirmary to collect the materials needed. Grabbing some needle, thread, salves, and linens. Once we gather what we needed, we enter King's Snow cabin. When we enter, we stopped, bewildered in was we saw. His upper body was free from clothing, as he lied there pale from the cold weather. All over his torso were five jagged scars that have not healed properly, leaving some with gashes. One that stood out was the one on his chest where his heart would be. Ser Davos wasn't being dramatic when he said Jon Snow took a knife in the heart.

"Your Grace," Ser Davos greeted, snapping me out of my daze.

I nodded in response and came over sitting on the edge of the bed to get a better look at the wound on his right shoulder. There was, indeed, a deep cut, a puncture wound in his right shoulder. I examined it and did a few tests that the blue graces did to me when I was injured. King Snow groaned, giving me an indication that the nerves were still intact. So, I began treating him, by cleaning out the wound and used some alcohol to disinfect it, before I started stitching up the wound. The King in the North stiffens, wincing now and then as I stitched up his right shoulder.

"I'm sorry," King Snow mumbled.

"I am not," I said. "We made it out alive and have the advantage."

"I'm so sorry," King Snow continued.

King Snow was about to say something then groaned when I did a stitch. Instantly Daenerys sat on the other side of the bed and took his hand.

"If we hadn't gone, I wouldn't have seen it," Daenerys said. "You have to see it to know. Now I know. We are going to destroy the Night King and his army. And we'll do it together. You have my word."

Daenerys was finally going to be part of the Great War. With her Khalasar we have more men joining the fight for the living. King Snow sighed in relief, as his eyes slightly water as he looked at her.

"Thank you, Dany." He whispered.

Daenerys gave a slight smile, "Dany?"

Realizing where this was going, I initially stitch a bit deep, sending a slight pain in King Snow's arm. He groaned again, which Daenerys gave me a look which I mutter a sorry. Until I know for sure of Jon Snow's parentage, I cannot risk these two to be infatuated. Yes, there is a chance I could be overthinking things of King Snow being my nephew. But until I get confirmation, I will not let the practice of incest occur again. The practice needs to die out for the safety of humanity.

Once done with his shoulder, I worked on his leg, thankful for the blanket covering his privates. Daenerys reached over touching my hand to help but stopped pulling it away.

"_Your hands are cold,"_ she said in Valyrian.

Pointing that out, I felt cold as well. I was so focused on tending King Snow I didn't realize how cold I was, and now that I mended him, shivers were rattling my bones. The coldest spot being where the bruise was on my lower back. Daenerys realized it was the aftermath of the connection from Viserion being injured.

_"I can finish him up. You warm yourself up,"_ She advised.

I nodded, not going to protest. Excusing myself, I stood up, wiping my hands on a rag, and left. Ser Davos went over to help Daenerys, while Jorah noticed how I was shivering. Even though the ship was warm, it still felt like it was cold outside. Carefully he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me inside to my cabin. He led me to the bed, helping me down. Jorah knew of the dragon magic since we told him. Being connected to Viserion any injury he received; I will get a mark on my body. However, this coldness …it's so unnatural.

Jorah pressed his hand on my forehead and frown, "I'll have one of the men get you a hot meal."

"I guess dragons don't do well in the cold," I mumbled.

He chuckled slightly though forced, "Apparently not."

"Is Bear Island this cold?" I asked.

He took my hands, rubbing them to get warm, "Only in the winter."

I only nodded, relaxing to his callous hands, warming my hands.

"You had a vision," he said.

"And what gave that away?" I asked.

"Your timing," he said. "I've had a feeling Gendry wouldn't make it in time to Eastwatch, then the raven flying over, and you girls arriving. How long did it take you to get here?"

"Three days," I answered, then yawned.

Jorah nodded, no doubt seeing the bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep. He got up and went to the door telling the men to bring some hot food. He then returns to the bed, sitting next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder and held his hand, ignoring the shivers in my body. Jorah was right here; he is still alive and not a Wight. That vision went over in my head countless times when flying towards Eastwatch. The haunting image of Jorah with those icy blue eyes, instead of his usual that was similar to the ocean.

I stared at his hands, seeing many nicks and cuts, "Are you injured?"

"I am fine," he assured.

I took his hand in which he winced slightly, "Liar."

He sighed as I stood up, grabbing the cannister of ointment for cuts and return to the bed. "Remove your shirt."

Jorah did not protest, knowing I have the command. He took off his leathers and furs and revealed the slight cuts on his arms. The furs, gambeson, and armor, he wore protected his vital organs, yet, through the many layers, some blades did, in fact, injure him. They were not deep, not able to scar. However, like all injuries, they must be treated. So, seeing the damage, I grabbed some linens, a bowl of water, and a fresh rag cleaning his wounds as I damped the cloth and washed the blood off his arms. Seeing all the scars from his years of war and the ones from his infection.

Jorah cradled my cheek, turning my attention to him as I stared into his blue eyes. I felt like I was drowning in those sea-blue eyes. The pull that was there since his return to Dragonstone. Unable to resist, I leaned in and kissed him. I did not mind the beard that scratched my skin. Jorah kissed back, though gentle and straightforward. Both of us were exhausted, not in the mood for intimacy.

After some time, one of the crew members brought some stew. We ate what we could, as I felt a bit warm inside, yet my body continues to be cold. When I finished, I removed my boots and outer layers before getting under the blankets and furs. Although, I dragged Jorah down to join me, not caring if it seems childish. My body aches and cold, and I can barely keep my eyes open. So, under the blankets and furs, sleep claims us.

**.o0o.**

It was still cold. No matter how many layers of blankets and furs, I always felt cold. My body still shuddering violently. Even curled up to Jorah who was immune to the cold, being born in the North. In my daze of waking up, Jorah secured his arms around me, rubbing my back.

"Your freezing," he murmured.

I nodded snuggling closer to his warmth. If I'm this cold, then Viserion must be freezing. In a few days, I wouldn't be surprised if he is in the volcano savoring the heat. Damn the Night King for hurting Viserion and the coldness of his weapon.

"Doubt we can light a fire," I muttered.

"Only on deck," Jorah said.

"How can you Northmen be fine in the cold?" I asked.

"We keep moving, staying active," he answered, as he continues to rub my back, though his hands went lower pressing on the bruise that I hissed. He stopped, "Are you injured?"

"A bruise on my lower back," I told him.

Jorah nodded as he continues rubbing my back, though focusing on the upper back. My arm wrapped around him, returning the same gesture. The shudders remain, though they decrease slightly but not enough.

"So... how do the Northmen stay warm at night," I asked.

A small smirk lifted his lip. He adjusted us, so he was on top of me, "Do you trust me?"

"Always," I murmured.

Jorah smiled softly as he kissed me while his wandering hands removed the remaining of my outer clothes, leaving me in nothing but my chemise. He pulled away, kissing along the jawline before gently biting my earlobe. I moaned as he went down kissing his way down my neck. Warmth slowly starting to build up inside me. Let alone; his hand trailed down my body to the delta between my thighs. He slid his fingers through my fold, already warm and dewy.

"Jorah," I whimpered, being three weeks maybe a month since our last encounter.

Jorah didn't hold back as he slid his fingers into my slick channel. I arched my back, thrusting my breasts high, he leaned forward to ravish my cleavage, unlacing the front to take a nipple in his mouth. I moaned as he stroked me, his thumb caressing my clit. He sucked on my breast, drawing the nipple deep into his mouth. As this was happening, I could feel a bulge between his legs. He groaned as he quickens his movement, toying with me as I withered, feeling the sensation building up and coil in my stomach. Jorah kissed me, catching my breath as I came while my muscles tighten around his fingers. The coldness was leaving my veins.

I panted seeing Jorah with a satisfactory look. Immediately, I worked on his trousers, forcing them off, as his penis came out already erect. He was not wasting any more time. Jorah did not hesitate, taking his member and rubbed it against my core, teasing me. I growled, not in a mood for teasing. He merely smirked before entering me in one smooth, slick motion. My eyes widen to the sensation, the feel of him stretching me. He moved his hips against mine, blue eyes on mine as he touched the deepest parts within.

I closed my eyes, as he rocked his hips, thrusting against me with increasing force. The tensioned coiled inside me that I writhed beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Opening my eyes, seeing Jorah eyes closed as he was savoring the feeling my body was giving him. Leaning up, I kissed his neck while my hands caressed his back, feeling all of him since he slept without his shirt. Not long after, he changed the angle, taking my leg higher up onto his waist, going deeper. A sharp gasp escapes my lips. Only to cry out as Jorah moved a hand between us teasing my clit. Unable to hold on, I came undone once more.

Jorah continues thrusting, forcing himself as my walls tighten around his member riding out my orgasm. His member growing and twitching, until he reached his own pinnacle and came, his seeds buried deep inside. He lowered himself to the bed, sweeping me into his arm. I nestled against his body. My fingers traced over his chest, panting out of breath. No longer shuddering or cold.

"So that is how the Northmen stay warm," I panted.

"Walking, fighting, and fucking, as the wildings put it," Jorah panted as well, before adjusting the blanket and furs over us, before taking a discarded linen to clean ourselves up.

We curled up against each other, as I rest my hand on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. My fingers were tracing along his skin. My body was relaxing, reminding me he was still alive. I've prevented the vision from coming true. Let alone there are two wights in a cell, as the men search for a creative to put them in. Seeing the Army of the Dead and the Night King, brought back reality in how important the Great War was.

"This is only the beginning," I whispered.

"Aye," Jorah said, rubbing my arm. "But we have the upper hand."

The question is…for how long?

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	75. Chapter 75: The True Enemy

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 75: The True Enemy**

_Alysanne's POV_

After three days out at sea, I no longer felt cold. I assumed that by now Viserion reached Dragonstone and was spending his time in Dragonmont. No doubt taking the warmth of the volcano to warm his body. Also, back on the ship, Jorah has been helping me in staying warm. It was a good thing I packed a vial of the Lys elixir. It was clear this will be a long trip back to Dragonstone.

Everyone has been resting and I don't blame them. Daenerys and I spent three long days on the dragons, meanwhile the expedition team spent slightly over a week out in the snow. On occasion I would check in on King Snow, seeing how his stiches were. He mainly slept, having the milk of the poppy to ease his injury. I even checked on the others, well most of them, the Hound was being distant. Daenerys, she was either asleep or tending to Jon Snow. I was still cautious about the King in the North due to his striking resemblance to Rhaegar.

_Damn you, Rhaegar,_ I thought again.

So, with nothing else to do, I was in my cabin writing some documents as a precaution. Writing down my will, orders for the Unsullied, and everyone if I were supposed to die. It was a rough draft; once the ideas were settled, I will go over with the Small Council to finalize the documents. Jorah was out on the deck. His Northern blood singing in his veins, enjoying the Norths cold air since he spent over a decade out in desert weather.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"It's Daenerys," my sister replied.

Daenerys opened the door and came inside.

"How are you feeling?" Daenerys asked.

"Much better, I'm no longer cold," I answered.

"And your back?"

"Still bruised, as if somebody stabbed me there," I muttered.

Daenerys nodded as she came over reading the documents on my shoulder, "What are you writing?"

"A draft on the line of succession," I answered.

My sister scowled as her violet eyes darken, "Why?"

"I need to set the foundations so if anything were to happen to me-"

"Nothing will happen to you," she promised.

"Dany," I sighed.

She grabbed the paper reading my plans for the line of succession. Being unmarried and without children makes Daenerys my heir. If Daenerys were to die and not have children, then House Martell through Prince Quentyn Martell's bloodline. If his bloodline were to go extinct then House Velaryon, Daenerys scowled at this.

"Why not leave a political government if something were to happen?" she asked. "We left Bay of Dragon's with a Council."

"Because Westeros is accustomed to a monarchy," I answered. "The nobles won't accept democracy, and aristocracy will be a powerplay of men stabbing each other in the back if Seven Lords of Westeros were to be elected. And it would be a political play for autocracy."

"But Alysanne, don't you have faith in me if I were to be Queen?" She asked.

I paused, remembering the vision Good Queen Alysanne showed me in the Veil when I died, what the potential future held if I were to die before sailing to Westeros. Once more, I felt like I was drowning under the secrets Visenya forced me to keep. Telling Jorah the truth saved me from a breakdown, but Daenerys. Her ignorance and taste of power was getting on my nerve.

"I can't do this anymore," I growled.

_Don't tell her about me_, Visenya whispered in my head.

"Do what?" Daenerys demanded. "This campaign?"

"No, not that, the secrets," I confessed, rubbing the conqueror ring.

Daenerys knelt on the ground, taking my hands, "Please tell me. You don't have to be my keeper anymore. What is it that troubles you?"

"I told you what happened when the Warlock's poisoned me," I stared.

"Yes, as your body was dying, they put your spirit in the Veil to obtain your fire through your deepest desire." She reminded.

I held her hand, "In the Veil, I saw a possibility…one that almost happened if you had died with Rhaego. They made their version of Jorah, a new identity for me as Alys Mormont. Similar events in Qarth, but the dragons were never born. We made a life in Braavos, after abdicating giving the Ring of Kings to the Small Council. Jorah and I were married and had a son…his name was Joren."

Daenerys eyes widen as she held my hands tightly. She knows I crave for a child, how I lost my first child by Viserion's wrath. She was there holding my hand, as the healers and midwives helped me deliver a stillborn child only a few months old.

"They took what I had desired, a family and…any longer the Warlocks would have gotten what they'd wanted. If our Jorah hadn't crossed paths with a Shadowbinder name Quaithe, I would surely be dead. Of course, he had a bit of help…"

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"The Veil is where those who are dying and the spirits await," I explained. "We…we saw our ancestors. Our Great Grandfather Aegon V was there, along with Rhaenyra, Daeron the Young King, Good Queen Alysanne, so many and…Rhaegar. I saw Rhaegar, Dany. He helped Jorah to save my soul from being lost."

"You…saw…Rhaegar?" She asked. "What did he say? What was he like?"

"Well…I kind of punched him in the face," I answered.

Daenerys chuckled slightly trying to imagine that, "Really?"

"He regrets what he did, unable to explain why he did it and begged for my forgiveness," I said. "He wasn't sure it was madness seeping into his mind, but the prophecy about the Prince who was promised through our parents' bloodline and the obsession to have three children consumed him. But that wasn't the only thing the ancestors warned us about. Good Queen Alysanne gave us a warning…"

"And what was the warning about?" she asked.

I took a deep breath. "There are evil beings in the world. Some are born evil, while others are driven to it."

She looked at me, confused.

"I saw a possible future if I were to die… you continued the conquest, however, only you and Grey Worm remained, and everyone else was dead. You emotionally went _Mad_, destroying King's Landing…killing innocent people, and continued onward for the rest of the world."

Daenerys' eyes widen in horror as she stood up and walked over to the window. She was quiet for some time. I feared that I offended her. But it is time she knows how serious I am in this conquest and the Great War. I need her entire support and understand that the Dothraki method is not the answer to everything. Brutality and strength are not the only things in being a ruler. One cannot use fear for everything.

"That's why you have been hard on me during my lessons," she whispered.

"Dany," I sighed. "You are not born with madness. Even Viserys was made mad because of the upbringing we went through. Our father…he dealt with so much heartbreak from mother's miscarriages, and traitors conspiring against him, if not jealousy as well. That possible future of you is something I don't want for you. A ruler may be feared, but they are also respected when love is not there. But I am the one who will wear the crown, and you must trust me in what I am doing. Why are you getting worked up because I made the Martells third in line?"

Daenerys turned around to speak but stopped realizing she was overreacting. She was still second in line to the throne. Let alone she is already a Queen, a Khaleesi to the greatest khalasar known to man. Practically the Dothraki Sea was her Kingdom, so why is she getting worked up in the line of succession? I wouldn't dare disinherit her so easily. The only thing that can make her inheritance for the Iron Throne farther is if I had children or a trueborn son, which is why I am wary about Jon Snow. A second reason why I am letting the North have its independence. Daenerys and I fought hard to take back our home.

"I'm sorry, I keep rushing to conclusions," she apologized.

I got up and walked over to embrace her, "I know. But you need to stop and think. Ask questions before rushing to a conclusion. That is how many wars are started. The same with the Usurper's rebellion."

Daenerys nodded as she changed the subject, "Was anyone in our family was there…other than Rhaegar?"

"Sadly no, as much as I would've loved to see Mother again," I sighed. "Or Rhaenys, Little Aegon, Elia, or even Father."

"You truly are a spiritual person," she murmured.

_'You have no idea,'_ I thought, as I could hear Visenya chuckling in my head.

I hope this voyage ends soon. Otherwise, cabin fever might cause a mutiny between the two dragons. Let alone Dany was treating King Snow. I need to figure out King Snow's parentage without exposing the possible secret.

**.o0o.**

_Dragonstone_

Tyrion stood at the shores along with Varys, Ser Barristan, and the War Council. Two weeks ago, they received a letter from Eastwatch-by-the-sea, stating that they have survived and are sailing south. The Queen and Khaleesi were safe, no injuries. Along with Jon Snow and Ser Jorah Mormont. Tyrion had sighed in relief. He still doesn't understand how the Queen knew both men were in danger. Ser Barristan advised him not to ask. The visions of Qarth probably did more than expected. Even before the letter arrived, the dragons had returned without their rider. Immediately all three went straight to the volcano. Only Drogon and Rhaegal had come out, bringing food to Viserion who remained inside.

Earlier they received a raven stating that the ship was arriving. So up head at the bay was the ship as two boats were coming to shore. The letter stated they will be arriving and to have the War council together on the beaches along with the prisoners. So, they stood on the shores, with the War Generals that were captured and the Tarly's. Lord Willas thought Randyll Tarly could be of use and allowed the traitor to remain as Queen Alysanne's prisoner. Tyrion was pleased the recent Lord of Highgarden showed mercy.

"Why are we here?" Lord Randyll demanded.

"Patience, my lord," Varys replied.

Lord Randyll scoffed, scowling at the Dothraki, his xenophobia highly noted in those glares. Dickon stood by his father keeping guarded, making sure his father was safe, despite being shackled. Lady Olenna sat in a chair, somewhat cold, wondering why she is here. She prefers this meeting to be taken in the throne room.

The boats arrived as Ser Jorah got out, offering a hand to help Alysanne and Daenerys off the ship. Jon was there, much better than he was two weeks ago. Along with Ser Davos, who remained on the boat with another individual who was heavily tied up and had a sack over his head. The sounds of growling heavily noted, not sounding at all human.

Jon and Alysanne came over with a serious look. One of equal agreement, as Alysanne took the lead addressing to the War Council.

"My Lords and Lady, thank you for coming to the beach as we discuss an important matter at hand," Alysanne said.

"And what is more important than fighting Cersei Lannister?" Prince Quentyn asked.

"Fighting for the living," Alysanne answered. "Our history made it that of a legend, one that the North only remembers. The purpose of building the wall."

"To keep the wildings out," Lord Randyll said.

"So, we thought in the past few hundred years," Jon agreed. "But my ancestors built the for the sole intentions of keeping the Others out during the Long Night."

"The Long Night?" Lady Olenna scuffed. "That was eight thousand years ago."

"The others are no more than legends," Lord Paxter agreed with his aunt.

"The Others, the White Walkers are real my lords and lady," Alysanne disagreed. "The past eight thousand years, they lied in wait. Waiting until the world of men has been fighting each other forgetting who the true enemies are."

Lord Randyll scoffed as his son nodded in agreement.

Alysanne looked at Jon who nodded as he went over to the boat helping Ser Davos bringing over the supposed prisoner. They held onto the rope before Jon removed the sack revealing the decompose practically skeleton head. It thrashed and shrieked trying to break free from Jon and Ser Davos. The War Council gasped in horror, as the men drew their blades. Lord Paxter stood between Lady Olenna as did Ser Terrance and Captain Aurane Waters. The Dothraki rushed in as well while the prisoners stepped back. Lord Randyll's eyes widen, not expecting such a thing.

Quentyn came closer, being the bravest one, Jon and Ser Davos keep a firm hold on the Wight.

"How is this possible?" Prince Quentyn asked, just as the Wight tried to bite him.

"Magic from the Night King," Alysanne answered.

"Is there any way to kill it?" Ser Terrance asked, observing the Wight thrashing about.

Jon Snow came forward, "We can destroy them by burning them or by using dragon glass. If we don't win this fight, then that is the fate over every person in the world."

Jon walked over to the creature, grabbing it by its shoulder and in one sharp swoop, he stabbed it in the monster chest. It shrieks one last time until finally becoming what it indeed was. A corpse. All its limbs stopped moving.

"If your house has a Valyrian Steel weapon they too can kill wights," Jon added.

Tyrion was still baffled, he believed Jon and Alysanne about the wights, but to see one. He looked at the War council who were either fascinated or terrified. The only one who remained neutral was Lady Olenna.

"How many are there?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Thousands," Alysanne answered, then turned to the War Council. "My Lords and Lady, I ask of you to hold off on our war against the Lannisters and focus on the primary threat that lies beyond the Wall. If we do not, this will be our fate." As she gestured to the rotten corpse.

The War Council glance at each other. The two Valyrians descendants nodded, although they have a navy, they will be able to transport supplies and evacuation. If the North should fall, they can get the citizens out. Now for the forces, they need the Reach, Dorne, and the Westerlands if they are going to survive.

Alysanne then walked over to the prisoner, to Lord Randyll, who stared at her.

"Lord Tarly, shall we put our differences aside and fight for the living," She asked offering a hand.

Lord Randyll Tarly glared at her hand and back at the owns indigo eyes. For a moment, he thought he was looking at the once Crown Prince. He doesn't see the power of the Mad King in the young woman's eyes. No, he saw someone who was filled with obligation and duty. Despite her being of the weaker sex, she was strong and powerful. As Lord Tarly remembered, she brought savages and dragons, yet she did not burn them all.

"I believe white walkers are far worse than the Dothraki," Alysanne added.

Lord Tarly sighed in defeat, knowing the Army of the Dead is far worse than a Dothraki horde. So, lifting his chained hand, he shook Queen Alysanne's hand. An alliance was forming without bending the knee.

Tyrion sighed in relief.

"I assume you would like to send word to Queen Cersei?" Varys spoke.

All eyes turned to Alysanne.

"Yes." She answered. "It's time to have a word to form an armistice."

It was time.

* * *

**Hey guys sorry for the long wait. Work and the worse writers block for this story. So basically, it is a filler chapter. Not my best. I promise the next chapter will be better.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	76. Chapter 76: The Armistice

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

**_Languages_:**

Common tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 76: The Armistice**

_Alysanne's POV_

It was evening, a day since returning to Dragonstone. Ser Terrance and Captain Aurane have been occupied in sending messages to the Valyrian settler islands informing them of the greater threat. Prince Quentyn has done the same, although because of the distance, it will take some time to get the message across and if Prince Doran will cooperate in lending aid in the Great War. Lady Olenna stated she will send word to Lord Willas, although with the numbers needed a marriage to get the Stormlands involved was required. Apparently, Lady Elain is from House Wensington, once brother house to House Durrandon before the adoption to House Baratheon. After the War of the Five Kings, House Wensington have been trying to maintain the Stormlands since Stannis and Renly Baratheon are dead.

Tyrion also sent a raven to King's Landing directing Ser Jaime to arrange the armistice meeting. So, we can show Cersei the true threat and unite the Seven Kingdoms against the Army of the dead. It will be a few days before we get a response. In the morning, Varys came in reporting that the Unsullied had taken over the Riverlands and freed Lord Edmure Tully from the Freys. Lord Edmure sworn allegiance to House Targaryen to serve when needed. Although there was a slight problem, the Rivermen population has decreased drastically on soldiers thanks the War of the Five Kings, the Red Wedding, and the Black Fish Rebellion. Any more battles and there won't be any men left to populate their kingdom. After talking to my Small Council, including King Snow it was decided to not get the Riverlands involved. Only that they ensure the soldiers safe crossing and supplies if there are any to spare.

I sighed after a long day, entering my chambers with Missandei. Inside the fireplace a fire still kept going with the three dragon eggs still inside. I thought if I kept the dragon eggs warm there might be a reaction.

"Anything on the dragon eggs?" I asked.

"No, Your Grace," Missandei said drawing a bath in the bathing chamber.

I sighed, as I thought, _Fire and Blood._

Is that how they are supposed to be born from the dead?

I sighed stripping from my clothes and entered the bathing chambers taking a long-deserved bath after fifteen days of not caring for myself. The bruise on my back nearly gone, yet the coldness still lingers on that small area. Missandei sat behind me and washed my hair. She was my friend, and confidant, doing so much for me.

"Missandei," I spoke.

"Yes, Your Grace?" She replied.

"Call me Alysanne in private, no need to be formal with me," I informed her.

"Of course…Alysanne," she said, finding it strange to use familiar term.

"Are you afraid?" I asked.

Missandei paused taking in what has happened in the past day after seeing the Wight. "I am."

I nodded, "So you know, if you wish to leave and return to Naath before the Long Night you are free to do so."

"Thank you, Alysanne," she murmured. "But I will stay and stand by your side."

I reached over and took her hand, "As you have been my friend. You have done more for me than my small council."

She gave a smile of appreciation for the compliment. I know one day she will ask me to sail back to Naath. Loyal as she may be, she was a gentle butterfly and her Island needed aid. Once the Long Night is over and the armistice comes to an end, that I retrieve my home, I'll make sure there is a campaign to free the Naath from slavery. By having the Unsullied who were native there to protect their lands. I recall outsiders barely stay in Naath no longer than a day. Something about their butterflies being poisonous. Only the natives were immune.

Anyway, we both enjoyed our silence listening to the waves as they crash against the shores.

.**o0o**.

A few days later a raven from King's Landing arrived. A meeting in the Chamber of the Painted Table was assembled along with the War Council. The letter was from Ser Jaime agreeing to the armistice meeting under Cersei Lannister's terms on where to meet. The meeting will take place at the Dragon Pits of King's Landing. Only the Small Councils of the three parties were allowed. The Crown, The North, and the Targaryens. Also, Cersei Lannister demands that the war generals who were held captive be released in exchanged for Tyene Sand.

"Do we follow these terms?" Daenerys asked.

"Yes," I said. "Also, to ensure Lord Tarly is with us, we will hold his son to guarantee he follows through on his agreement."

Ser Barristan nodded, as he pointed to the map of King's Landing. "We will have the Unsullied and the Dothraki position at the North and West gates of the city. The fleet will be a few miles out from the bay, which only three ships will come in to escort the company in. They will most likely have you all dock near the Iron Gate."

"Hopefully this doesn't lead to battle," King Snow said.

"As long as Cersei Lannister keeps her word," Captain Aurane replied.

"Since when does Cersei keep her word," Lady Olenna muttered.

I looked at my company, "Lady Olenna, Prince Quentyn, and Ser Terrance, I ask that you do not attend this armistice. Lady Olenna, you already have history with the Lannisters, and Ser Terrance and Prince Quentyn, if the Lannisters get hold of you, you might be held for ransom."

"Of course, Your Grace," Prince Quentyn obliged.

We continue the discussion of setting battle plans if Cersei dares attack us. Much to King Snow dismay. In case of a siege, we were relying on the Unsullied, the Dothraki, and the Velaryon, Celitgar, and the Redwyne Fleet. Along with three dragons. It was best we be prepared. Tomorrow those who are going will sail ahead while Daenerys and I remained a day behind before flying towards King's Landing.

For the first time in almost two decades I was going home. I will see King's Landing again and confront the woman whose family stole mine from me.

**.o0o.**

_King's Landing_

It took a two-day sail to arrive at King's Landing. Only three ships arrived at the outer docks where the representatives for the North and the Targaryens arrived. Earlier in the day the Unsullied had arrived taking formation at the Old Gate near the forest. All twelve thousand men standing at attention with the trebuchets and war elephants ready. At first Ser Jaime thought they had the lead, until the Dothraki charged in traveling around the Unsullied in their battle cries. Back on the ship, Dickon Tarly remained to secure House Tarly doesn't go against their word. Lord Randyll Tarly found his trust being disrespected, but knew it was a means of security. Oaths were not what they used to be.

Jorah, Missandei, Ser Davos, Jon, Varys, and Tyrion were on the Vhagar as the ship pulled into from the bay, as they stared at Iron Fleet that was consisted of six hundred ships.

Jon observed the armada and the city of King's Landing.

"How many people live here?" Jon asked.

"A million, give or take," Tyrion answered.

The population had doubled since Robert's Rebellion for the city.

"That's more people than the entire North crammed into that," Jon noted. "Why would anyone want to live that way?"

"There's more work in the city," Tyrion explained, then looked at Jon. "And the brothels are far superior."

Ser Davos snorted, though he was a married man and kept to his vows. Although he hardly communicated with his wife, not after the Battle of Blackwater Bay. He couldn't summon the courage to tell Marya that Mathos was dead. He still has younger boys of Devan, Stannis, and Steffon. All four of them living in Cape Wrath at the Stormlands.

When they docked, they journeyed to the gate. The Iron Gates opened for them. Archers were still on guard, aiming their bows at the ready in case the Dothraki dare to strike. Jon knew tensions are high, as he and his company headed upwards on the trail. Tyrion who knows King's Landing, lead the way to the dragon pits.

Along with Missandei, Jorah, Varys, Ser Davos, Theon, Captain Aurane, Ser Barristan and the Hound who was supervising a donkey-pulled wagon carrying a crate. Missandei observed their surroundings, seeing the difference in architecture from Dragon's Bay, Naath, and Dragonstone. Seeing a sample of the Westerosi culture. Although she noticed a stench, especially when Ser Davos pointed out the location of Flea bottom as they walked through Rhaenys's Hill. She was curious about the location where they were going, The Dragonpits.

"Why did they build it?" Missandei asked.

"Dragons don't understand the difference between what is theirs and what isn't," Jorah answered. "Land, livestock, children…Letting them roam free around a city was a problem."

"I imagine it was a sad joke at the end," Tyrion murmured. "An entire arena for a few sickly creatures smaller than dogs. But in the beginning, when it was home to Balerion the Dread, it must have been the most dangerous place in the world."

"Maybe it still is," Ser Davos suggested.

Up ahead was Ser Bronn followed by Lannister soldiers wielding spears, shields, and swords. Among the company was Lady Brienne representing for Lady Sansa, along with Podrick. The Hound noticed Brienne getting a sense of discomfort and bitterness since the tall woman beat him in combat, bit his ear off, and almost killed him. If falling off a cliff and broken limbs were a near death experience. Brienne saw Sandor Clegane and tried to avoid eye contact. Tyrion, on the other hand, was seeing two old familiar faces. The last he saw Ser Bronn and Podrick was in his cell after Joffrey's death.

Ser Bronn stepped forward, "Welcome, my lords."

The Dothraki stared at him, not understanding the common tongue. Missandei had to translate for them.

"Your friends arrived before you did. I've been sent to escort you all to the meeting." Ser Bronn continued, gesturing the way as the Lannister soldiers turn to the side granting passage.

The Dothraki generals looked at Tyrion before taking the lead, followed by the others. Podrick walked over to Podrick. Being almost three years since he last saw his lord.

"Pleasant surprise in an unpleasant situation," Tyrion greeted.

"I never thought I'd see you again, my lord," Podrick replied.

"Supporting the enemy, no less," Tyrion said.

"Hard to blame you," Podrick said.

"Cersei will anyway," Tyrion muttered.

Podrick nodded with a smile, "I'm glad you're alive."

Bronn came over, "Come on! You can suck his magic cock later."

Podrick held back his chuckle. Tyrion rolled his eyes and shook his head at the old joke. They joined the others catching up.

One Lannister soldier was curious what was inside the crate. He could hear what sounded like growls. "What's in there?"

Sandor looked at him annoyed, "Fuck off."

He turned his attention to Lady Brienne. The female warrior sensed eyes on her and glanced over their shoulder seeing Clegane. She paused waiting for him to catch up till walking beside the Hound.

"I thought you were dead," Brienne said.

"Not yet," Sandor countered. "You came pretty close."

"I was only trying to protect her," Brienne explained.

"You and me both," Sandor agreed gruffly.

"She's alive. Arya." Brienne told him.

Sandor looked at her, "Where?"

"Winterfell," Brienne answered.

"Who's protecting her if you're here?" Sandor asked.

"The only one that needs protecting is the one that gets in her way," Brienne answered.

Sandor smiled proudly, though hidden under his beard. "It won't be me."

Tyrion and Bronn soon made the front of the group.

"Here we are—the heroes of Blackwater Bay. Strange place for a reunion," Tyrion said to his old friends.

"It is, my lord," Podrick agreed.

"I don't think I'm anyone's lord, anymore, Podrick," Tyrion said. "Save the titles for Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. "

"I'm sure your new Queen will be happy to restore yours if she ends up on the throne." Bronn sarcastically replied.

"You've been thinking about our new Queen?" Tyrion asked. "Perhaps you've been considering your allegiances. Remember my offer – whatever they're paying you, I'll pay double."

"And that would be double what now, exactly?" Varys asked, listening to their conversation.

"Don't you worry about me. I'm doing all right. Looking after myself," Bronn assured.

"Are you?" Tyrion asked. "Helping me to arrange this meeting wasn't exactly looking after yourself, was it? You put yourself at risk."

"I put yourself at risk. Important difference. It's your head Queen Cersei's offered a bag of gold for, it's not mine. Now, thanks to me, she's got two traitors' heads coming right through her door. She can lop them both off as soon as she gets tired of the clever words that pour out of their pieholes. All thanks to Ser Bronn of the _'fucking'_ Blackwater. If that's not looking after myself, I don't know what is." Ser Bronn said.

Tyrion was quiet for a moment then murmured, "It's good to see you again."

Ser Bronn looked at him, with a slight smile, "Yeah, you, too."

They soon arrived at the Dragonpit. Sandor secured the donkey but noticed the numerous Lannister soldiers. "Anyone touches it, I'll kill you first."

The young Lannister soldiers gulped, glancing at the crate.

Afterward, they entered the Dragonpit. Once a massive arena for the dragons to reside in has fallen to ruins. The first destruction happening during the Dance of the Dragons. The Storming of the Dragonpit it was called, when ten thousand starving smallfolk lead by a prophet called the Shepard stormed the den and killed five dragons. Shyrkos, Morgul, Tyraxes, Dreamfyre, and Syrax falling victim towards their species extinction. The second of its destruction, was during the Great Sickness, the Hand of the King at the time, Lord Brynden Rivers placed the corpses that died from the illness and set the bodies aflame with wildfire. So much sorrow of many ghosts who died here. A place that was meant to be the dragon's sanctuary turned into a cage of death.

Inside the ruins on a stone platform were three shaded canopies representing the Crown's color, Lannister colors of crimson red trimmed in gold. In the center canopy, was supported by ornated filigree. There were four chairs, one larger signifying the rulers' place. On one side were banners of House Stark while on the other side was House Targaryen. All around the ruins were the Lannister soldiers, standing there with the lion shield, while the banners of golden lions of a red field hung about.

Ser Bronn gestured where people should sit. Tyrion examined the area wondering where the Crown and Small Council were. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah examined the archers from the platform making sure the area was secured for the Dragon Sisters. Making sure that this was not a trap.

Bronn came over to Podrick, patting his back, "Come, Pod. Let's you and me go have a drink while the fancy folks talk, eh?"

Podrick stared at Lady Brienne for her consent. The Maid of Tarth nodded, both men thanked her before leaving. Silence engrossed the pit, hearing nothing but the wind. Tyrion standing on the edge looked at the entrance wondering where his siblings were. Sandor came over to the once Lord who his family had served since his grandfather saved Lord Tytos from a mountain lion.

"I left this shit city because I didn't want to die in it. Am I going to die in this shit city?" Sandor bitterly asked.

"You might," Tyrion answered.

"And this is all your idea," Sandor noted. "Seems every bad idea has some Lannister cunt behind it."

"And some Clegane cunt to help them see it through," Tyrion murmured.

Footsteps could be heard along with the sound of heavy armor. At the entrance, Cersei arrived with Ser Jaime by her side along with Qyburn and Euron. Behind them was the Queensguard, dressed in black armor. One stood out, which Sandor recognized to be his brother who was leading the royal party. Everyone went to their position, taking a seat, though Tyrion stood there watching his siblings passed by. If not noticing the loathing glare much sinister than Tywin Lannister. Ser Jaime passed Brienne, though focus forward. Captain Euron saw his nephew Theon giving him a deviant smirk. The Crown and Small Council took their seat.

Sandor walked over to the Crown's canopy, though The Mountain stepped forward in case he was going to attack the Queen. Instead Sandor stared at the red eyes of Gregor, seeing what the helm allowed of grey disfigure skin.

"Remember me?" Sandor asked.

Gregor remained silent.

"Yeah, you do. You're even fucking uglier than I am now. What did they do to you?" Sandor asked. "Doesn't matter. That's not how it ends for you, brother. You know who's coming for you. You've always known."

With that said, Sandor left to retrieve the crate while Gregor returned to his post to guard his queen.

Time went on as the gathering waited for two missing people. The Dragon Sisters. Cersei sat there bitterly annoyed.

"Where is she?" Cersei asked.

"She'll be here soon," Tyrion promised.

"Didn't travel with you?" Cersei asked.

Tyrion hesitated, "No."

Cersei heaved a sighed and glanced on the North's spotting Lady Brienne who was glancing at her brother, Jaime who in return was staring at her. Until Jaime felt Cersei's eyes on him, and looked away from the Maid of Tarth.

Suddenly the sound of screeching caught everyone's attention. Majority of everyone, except for Cersei stood up, spotting the three dragons flying in the sky. They soar around the Dragonpit, until Drogon and Viserion landed at the front of the entrance up on the walls while Rhaegal continue to fly overhead. Drogon gave a roar, before both dragons climbed down revealing their riders. Daenerys in an elaborate dark coat with her hair pulled back and Alysanne in her dragon armor. The Dragon Sisters climbed down, and once on the platform, Alysanne removed her helm revealing her face.

Cersei held back a sneered, seeing the features of a Targaryen for the first time since the Tournament of False Spring. The unique traits of the Targaryen of flawless pale skin, purple eyes, statuesque beauty, and most prominently their white hair. She noticed Alysanne having a golden-white, while Daenerys with a silver-white locks. However, she can see the features of Rhaegar in Alysanne while Daenerys was more in favor to the late queen Rhaella. The prophecy of Maggy the Frog whispered in Cersei's ear.

_Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear._

The Dragon Sisters walked over to the canopy for House Targaryen. Once they took their seat their Small Council did as well. Alysanne and Daenerys center, with Tyrion on the Khaleesi side and Ser Jorah on the Queen's side. Varys sat next to Tyrion, while Missandei, Ser Barristan, Theon, and Captain Aurane sat from behind while the Dothraki stood.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I sat down and stared at Cersei Lannister. The False Queen who stole the throne from her own son after his death. She has no King's blood of Aegon the Conqueror in her veins. The woman who dared to taunt me with a minstrel to sing the _Rains of Castamere_ sat there, with cropped blond hair and green emerald eyes. She held a beauty, although the roundness of her cheeks showed indications of drinking. On top of her head was a silver crown with an intricate design that was impossible to tell symbolism, while wearing a texture black dress and coat.

"We've been here for some time," Cersei said.

"My apologies," I replied calmly.

Her lips tighten, wanting to counter back but didn't.

I turned to Tyrion and nodded to him to begin the armistice.

Tyrion got off his seat taking the center of the platform, "We are all facing a unique –"

"Theon!" A man sitting by a Maester in dark robes called out. If I'm correct that he is Euron Greyjoy. The man who offered his hand in marriage for his armada, Captain Euron "I have your sister. If you don't submit to me here, now . . . I'll kill her."

Tyrion was confused, "I think we ought to begin with larger concerns."

"Then why are you talking?" Euron replied coldly, standing up walking over to the Tyrion. "You're the smallest concern here."

Tyrion turned to Theon, "Do you remember when we discussed dwarf jokes?"

"His wasn't even good," Theon jabbed.

"He explained it at the end, never explain. It always ruins it." Tyrion said.

"We don't even let your kind live in the Iron Islands, you know," Euron murmured. "We kill you at birth. An act of mercy for the parents."

"Perhaps you ought to sit down," Ser Jaime said bitterly.

"Why?" Euron challenged.

"Sit down or leave," Cersei commanded.

The largest knight, who is rumored to be Ser Gregor Clegane stepped forward. All eyes were on Euron to see what he will do. Instead of responding with a sarcastic remark, he stepped back returning to his seat.

Tyrion started his speech again, "We are a group of people who do not like one another, as this recent demonstration has shown. We have suffered at each other's hands. We have lost people we love at each other's hands. If all we wanted was more of the same, there would be no need for this gathering. We are entirely capable of waging war against each other without meeting face-to-face."

"So instead, we should settle our differences and live together in harmony for the rest of our days?" Cersei asked sarcastically.

"We all know that will never happen," Tyrion answered.

"Then why are we here?" Cersei asked.

King Snow stood up to stand beside Tyrion, "This isn't about living in harmony. It's just about living. The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can't negotiate with. An army that doesn't leaves corpses behind on the battlefield. Lord Tyrion tells me a million people live in this city. They're about to become a million more soldiers in the Army of the Dead."

"I imagine for most of them it would be an improvement," Cersei murmured.

King Snow scowled as he stepped forward, "This is serious. I wouldn't be here if it weren't."

"I don't think it's serious at all. I think it's another bad joke," Cersei replied and turn her attention to me. "If my brother Jaime has informed me correctly, you're asking us for a truce."

"Yes. That's all," I answered.

"That's all?" Cersei repeated with a bitter smile. "Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt. Or while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back until you return and march on _'my'_ capital with four times the men."

"Your capital will be safe until the northern threat is dealt with," Daenerys promised. "You have our word."

"The word of a would-be usurper." Cersei challenged

_This coming from the woman who married a Usurper,_I thought.

"There is no conversation that will erase the last fifty years," Tyrion inserted. "We have something to show you."

A few minutes later the sound of chains rattling caught our attention. Sandor coming up from the tunnels that was beneath the platform. Once on the platform, he set the crate down and carefully removed the lid. Sandor stared at Wight who must be dormant at the moment, knowing what was inside the crate, I waited as did everyone else. Sandor growing impatient kicked the container over. A rotten decay corpse tumbled out laying there.

Suddenly it shrieked, as it stood up and ran towards Cersei. The False Queen gasped, pushing back in her seat, as her guards rushed in to protect her. The Wight was all decomposed, muscle practically gone with bone and skull exposed. Of its face, there were no lips, exposing its rotten yellow teeth, and the nose is gone. What stood out the most was the solid icy blue eyes. Immediately, Sandor grabbed the chain, preventing the Wight from attacking Cersei, although the creature continued to reach out with its skeleton hands a mere foot from Cersei's face as she sat there petrified.

Sandor yanked on the chain pulling the Wight back. It turned around, charging at Sandor who yanked at it again getting its attention. The Wight shrieked, standing up lunging at the Sandor, who drew his sword. Just as its skeleton hand lashed out, Sandor cut the corpse in half from the torso. The upper body crawled trying to get its target while the lower half kicked about. Once close enough to Sandor, reaching its arm out did he cut it off. It showed no sign of pain, while the hand still flexes.

All eyes were on Cersei. Everyone watching the False Queen comprehending what just happened. That in front of her was a Wight, something that should be a mere legend. The once Maester known as Qyburn stood up, as he collected the hand which was still moving. King Snow came over which Qyburn gave the hand to him. Ser Davos used a flint lighting a torch giving it to Lord Jon, as he addressed us.

"We can destroy them by burning them," he said, lighting the hand on fire. Resulting in the Wight screaming in agony. He dropped the hand, pulling out a dragon glass dagger, "And we can destroy them with dragon glass. If we don't win this fight, then that is the fate over every person in the world."

King Snow walked over to the Wight, grabbing it by its arm lifting it into the air. In one strong swoop, he stabbed it in the monster chest. It shrieks one last time until finally becoming what it truly was. A corpse. All its limbs stopped moving.

"There is only one war that matters – the Great War," King Snow said, looking into my eyes meaning it. "And it is here."

Cersei was still shocked by this

"I didn't believe it until I saw them," Daenerys said. "I saw them all."

"How many?" Ser Jaime asked still baffled.

"A hundred thousand, at least," I answered.

Euron stood up, walking over to the corpse examining it. "Can they swim?"

"No," King Snow confirmed.

"Good," Euron said. "I'm taking the Iron Fleet back to the Iron Islands."

"What are you talking about?" Cersei asked.

"I've been around the world. I've seen everything, things you couldn't imagine, and this…this is the only thing I've ever seen that terrifies me." Euron explained, his eyes widen from the adrenaline of shock. He came over to Daenerys and I were. "I'm going back to my island. You should go back to yours. When winter's over, we'll be the only ones left alive."

I refrain from giving the pirate a response while Daenerys gave a slight smirk. After saying that comment, Euron left the Dragonpit abandoning his alliance to House Lannister. So much for the adventures of Captain Euron.

"He's right to be afraid. And a coward to run. If those things come for us, there will be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered will have been for nothing. Everything we lost will have been for nothing." Cersei said, stiffly. "The crown accepts your truce. Until the dead are defeated, they are the true enemy."

Daenerys and I nodded in appreciation while King Snow sighed in relief.

"In return, the King in the North will extend this truce," Cersei continued. "You will not take up arms against the Lannisters. He will not choose sides."

"Just the King in the North?" Daenerys asked. "Not me?"

Cersei gave a weak chuckle, "I would never ask it of you. You would never agree to it. And if you did, I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark's son. I know Ned Stark's son will be true to his word."

King Snow paused contemplating the decision that Cersei Lannister has offered him. An offer of neutral ground. One that keeps the North out of the war between the Targaryens and the Lannisters. It was an easy decision, focus on his people and stay out of it. Not taking part of the war in who sits on the Iron Throne. As much as House Stark holds a vendetta against the Lannisters, will Jon Snow choose between vengeance or security. He stared at Cersei before staring at Daenerys and me.

"I am true to my word. Or I try to be," King Snow said. "That is why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two queens. And I have already pledged an alliance to House Targaryen."

My eyes widen not expecting that nor did anyone else. Honorable that he is in the truth, his decision to refuse Cersei's offer and explain the reason why has forfeited the truce.

As Cersei scowled, "Then there is nothing left to discuss," as she stood up. "The dead will come north first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you."

With nothing else to say, she stormed off with her council.

I turned to my attention asking in Dothraki, "**What did you say to him?"**

Knowing that Daenerys spent quality time with King Snow on the ship back to Dragonstone.

**"I said nothing,"** Daenerys whispered back.

For some reason I do not believe her.

Once the Lannisters were gone except for their guards, we gather center of the stage. Ser Davos came over to King Snow.

"I wish you hadn't done that," The Onion Knight muttered.

Daenerys and I got up walking over to him.

"I'm grateful for your loyalty," I said. "But we risk so much so that we could be here. If it's all for nothing, then all of it is for nothing."

"I know!" King Snow exclaimed.

"I'm pleased you respect our Queen and the alliance," Tyrion said, getting everyone's attention. "I would have advised it, had you asked. But have you ever considered learning how to lie every now and then? Just a bit?"

"I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold." King Snow said, controlling his anger. "Talk about my father if you want, tell me that's the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies. And lies won't help us in this fight."

"That is indeed a problem," Tyrion said. "The more immediate problem is that we're fucked."

"Any ideas as to how we might change that state of affairs?" Ser Davos asked.

Tyrion looked at the Red Keep, "Only one. Everyone stays here, and I go and talk to my sister."

I walked over to Tyrion, "I didn't come all this way to have my Hand murdered."

"I don't want Cersei to murder me either. I could have stayed in my cell and saved a great deal of trouble." Tyrion said.

"I did this," King Snow said. "I should go."

"She'll definitely murder you," Tyrion countered. "I go see my sister. Or we all go home, and we're right back where we started."

I sighed in defeat and nodded. Putting my trust in Tyrion Lannister to solve the problem. I pray to the Seven that Cersei doesn't kill him, and he can fix all this. Although a part of me knew Cersei will not collaborate so easily.

**.o0o.**

_The Dragonpit_

Jon, needing some space, walked along the walls of center of the dragonpit. He knew he messed up the truce, but he can't rely on lies. It was the morals he grew up by, by his father Ned Stark. Last time he lied, it almost killed him when confronting Mance Rayder after the Battle of Castle Black. Lying wasn't his thing, he barely made it through his teeth when the Wildings held him hostage. Only Ygritte and Orell could tell he was lying.

He noticed a jawbone and picked it up. He examined the bone, doubting it was the remains of the last dragon, it looked about to be a goat or maybe a dog. His best bet a dog that died here and rot away to nothing but bone. He sighed, looking up to the sky.

Daenerys came over to give him comfort. On the ship back from Eastwatch-by-the-sea they talked while he recuperated. Nothing happened, no forging oaths of which Queen or House. After some time, Daenerys understood why Alysanne was giving the North's its independence. A peace offering after what their Father and Rhaegar did to House Stark. A decision of lust destroying a deep alliance in the last three hundred years.

Jon sighed, fidgeting with the jawbone, "No one is less happy about this than I am."

"I know," Daenerys murmured. "I respect what you did. Wish you hadn't done it, but I respect it."

She came closer taking the jawbone and caressed the teeth. She looked around the ruins for what was supposed to be the dragon's sanctuary.

"This place was the beginning of the end for my family," Daenerys commented. "_Zaldrīzes dohaeriros iksos daor._ A dragon is not a slave. They were terrifying. Extraordinary. They filled people with wonder and awe, and we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small. And we grew small as well." She looked at Jon. "We weren't extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else."

Daenerys finally understood in her sister's lessons. Just because they were immune to fire thanks to their Great-Grandfather, Aegon V's attempt to resurrect the dragons, does not mean they were immortal. Not the god complex Viserys described to them. The Magic of Old Valyria was gone, burned away since the Doom. Only a small fragments of dragon magic remains through their connection of the dragons. And based on her encounters of the birthing bed, and Alysanne's constant injures either from Viserys and their enemies they can bleed as well.

She handed him the jawbone which he accepts.

"You're not like everyone else," Jon assured, stepping closer to her. "And your family hasn't seen its end. You're still here."

Daenerys appreciated his words, but sighed sadly, "I can't have children."

"Who told you that?" Jon asked.

"The witch who murdered my husband," she answered.

"Has it occurred to you she might not have been a reliable source of information?" he asked.

Daenerys smiled slightly since her sister mention that before. Maybe the curse is her hopes for Drogo returns of being sterile. Although, when she was with Daario for over a year she used no protection, and she never conceived. Then her thoughts went back to Alysanne, remembering her sister forced to be intimate with Viserys. In their years of marriage, the two only had one conception of a pregnancy until Viserys terminated it with his blind rage. Could Daenerys have the same fertility issues as Alysanne, still fertile but need a stronger seed? She hasn't flowered in so long, then again, growing up she barely bled like most girls.

Changing the subject, she glances at Jon, "You were right from the beginning. If I had trusted you, everything would be different."

"So, what now?" he whispered.

"I can't forget what I saw north of the Wall," she murmured. "And I can't pretend that Cersei won't take back half the country the moment we march north."

Jon nodded slightly, "It appears Tyrion's assessment was correct. We're fucked."

Daenerys chuckled slightly through her nose. She liked Jon Snow. A bastard he may be, yet he was quite amusing once you get over his brooding behavior. He was different from the others, from Drogo and Daario. He wasn't a hero, well, not someone who is seeking for glory. He cared about his people, the same as she cared for the Dothraki and her family. Also, he's quite handsome in a northerner kind of way.

After some time, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. All eyes turning to the only entrance where Tyrion came forward. Not far behind him was Cersei with her Queensguard and Ser Jaime.

Jorah glanced at Alysanne who held a cautious look. Something doesn't seem right, and when Alysanne gives that look he is on guard. The same expression when the wine merchant tried to give them free wine. The Lannisters stood on the other side of the platform. Cersei standing there holding her hands as her attention was on Dragon Sisters and Jon.

"My armies will not stand down," Cersei announced. "I will not pull them back to the capital. I will march them north to fight alongside you in the Great War."

The others were in disbelief.

"The darkness is coming for us all," Cersei continued. "We'll face it together. And when the Great Wat is over, perhaps you'll remember I chose to help with no promises or assurances from any of you. I expect not. Call our banners. All of them."

Emerald eyes stared into indigo eyes as the two queens read each other's mind.

Not trusting one another.

* * *

**I know, it's somewhat similar to ADIALD. I tried to make some difference.**

**And yes, I did the High Valyrian version of "A Dragon is not a slave" not the mixed version of High Valyrian and Low Valyrian. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	77. Chapter 77: Ice and Fire

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

* * *

**Chapter 77: Ice and Fire**

_Alysanne's POV_

When Viserion flew around King's Landing and towards the Dragonpits, I saw my home for the first time in nearly twenty-one years. Seeing the Red Keep from the horizon of the Blackwater Bay. There was a slightly foul scent. Despite the fact that my memories were gone, there was familiarity. For I knew I would stare out of the windows from Maegor's Holdfast and other towers in the Red Keep to stare at the city's landscape. However, something felt off, a sense of this no longer being my home. Even with the red from the Keep and roofs of the city's rooftops. It doesn't feel like home. Not when the people from my childhood were gone.

Only two people who were part of early childhood were divided as Ser Barristan stood behind me while the man who served my father, Ser Jaime Lannister, sat beside his sister. The man who killed my father. I had mixed emotions upon seeing Ser Jaime. Tyrion mentioned his brother killed my father because King Aerys II madness became extreme to the point that he decided to set the city aflame in wildfire. So, breaking his vows to save a half-a-million people is one thing. But to serve the women who killed her husband, and the downfall of her children. Let alone the rumors of Ser Jaime fucking his sister.

When I saw Cersei Lannister, I felt an uncomfortable presence from her — seeing her sitting there with a scornful smile. At first, I took pleasure in her terrified state when seeing the Wight. Afraid of the possible death of becoming a Wight. However, the way she spoke, especially when making a truce to fight against the Army of the Dead, I got a sense of deception. The same deception from the Yunkish and the three Slaver Masters. She won't keep her word. She'll act reasonable, but she won't honor the truce.

After the armistice, we did exchange the prisoners. The War Generals for Tyene Sand. Although, when I told them about Yara. The Unchained Maester name Qyburn negotiated these terms explaining that Yara Greyjoy was Euron Greyjoy's prisoner. Theon was displeased, but I assured him we would find another way of getting his sister. Right now, it is not the time. Once we were on the ships or at Dragonstone, I'll help him arrange a rescue team.

So, upon returning to the ship, on the Meraxes, I summoned for my true council. The people who've been with me since my campaign in Slaver's Bay, Daenerys, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Missandei, and Grey Worm in my cabin. Due to the previous relationship Tyrion and Varys had with Cersei, I excluded them while King Snow I felt was a bit naïve to realize the situation.

"I think we can agree that we can't trust the Lannisters," I finally spoke.

"Are you sure, Your Grace?" Missandei asked.

I nodded, "Cersei Lannister spoke in the same manner as the Yunkish. She was lying through her smile."

"The same tone I've heard in a long time," Ser Barristan agreed.

"What do you command, my Queen," Grey Worm asked.

I sighed, crossing my arms and leaned against a table, "Right now, we need to focus on the Great War. If the union between Lord Willas and Lady Elain works out, we will have the Reach and partial of the Stormlands forces heading north."

"What about Dorne?" Daenerys asked.

"I'm afraid they won't make it in time," I answered in defeat.

It takes a month from King's Landing to Winterfell on the Kingsroad. It would be probably two months by the masses of an army to reach Winterfell in time. As long as the Night King doesn't find that magical horn.

"The number of their forces will take two months since they will have to go around the Crownlands," Jorah explained.

"It might be best to keep Dorne out of the fold in the Great War and reserve them for the siege when the time comes," Ser Barristan added.

"If the time comes," Daenerys said.

I sighed, knowing that the number of the Army of the Dead forces is vastly unknown. The North roughly has ten maybe fifteen thousand men. Daenerys has a hundred thousand Dothraki Screamers. I have eight thousand Unsullied and two maybe three thousand uncut, volunteer soldiers. Followed by two war elephants and three dragons. Along with the Redwyne Fleet, Velaryons, and Celtigar have offered their fleet to help evacuate the refugees since they were sailors, not infantrymen. So, having the Reach, and Lord Willas' marriage can give us the advantage we need in winning this war.

Unless I'm mistaken, and Cersei honors her word and sends the Lannister army and the Crown's Army to head North. Which I highly doubted. It's hard to trust a Lannister unless they are the outcast in their Pride. My father trusted Tywin Lannister during Robert's Rebellion. That trust lead to the sacking of King's Landing, the death of a king, and the slaughter of Rhaegar's family. I cannot forgive the Lannisters for the murder of Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon. When I saw Ser Gregor standing there, I imagined saying Dracarys and Viserion burning the Mountain until he was nothing but ash. Ser Gregor Clegane will be punished for what he did to them. I will avenge them just as the Red Viper tried to. Only I won't be cocky as Prince Oberyn.

We continue the discussion on battle tactics. Already Lord Tarly is heading back to the Reach to collect his forces. Although, we are keeping his son Dickon as our humble guest to make sure the Lord keeps his word. Yes, it's considering him as a hostage but honoring one's word is rare. Once we were done with our discussion, everyone but Jorah left the room. I sighed, rubbing my eyes then pinched the bridge of my nose to alleviate a possible headache.

"You have done well," Jorah complimented.

"Have I?" I asked.

"Better than most," he answered.

"I had King's Landing right there; most would say I was a fool in not taking it," I said, then sighed. "But even if I've attacked King's Landing, there would have been more deaths and battles from the Lords who sides with the Lannisters."

"It was a tough decision, but you chose for the realm," he said as he came over and took my hand. "Wise as Nymeria."

"Another warrior Queen whose blood lingers in my veins," I chuckled slightly.

Jorah nodded. I've tried not to be arrogant to think of the number of warriors I've been descended from. From Aegon the Conqueror and his descendants, along with spouses who joined our family later on. Especially from House Martell.

"I wish we had more time," I confessed. "Visenya said the Army of the Dead shall march South when I'm already here. I thought I would be Queen of Westeros by then."

"As did I," he agreed. "As did I."

I walked over to him and rested my head on his chest. Instantly Jorah wrapped his arms around me, offering his comfort. I haven't felt this much stress about my decisions since the Campaign in Slavers Bay. After staring at the children were hung on the mileposts.

"You have a gentle heart, but you are strong, Alysanne." He murmured as he rubbed my back.

"Why are you so good with your words," I muttered.

He chuckled as he continued to rub my back.

**.o0o.**

It has been a few days since the armistice. Currently, everyone has gathered in arranging the battle plans for the North. If we can keep the Army of the Dead in one Kingdom, then there is a chance of maintaining them, keeping them away from vastly populated areas. Jorah informed me the majority of the Northmen population is around a million people. A small population scarcely spaced out — the same population as King's Landing. However, the kingdoms like the Riverlands and the Reach are highly at risk.

Both Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah stood beside one another over an updated map of Westeros. Both of them wearing their new armors that the Blacksmith of Qohor had forged. Both being in dark grey, not black like mine. Ser Barristan's holds resemblance to the armor that my father's Kingsguard wore, as the dragon emblem on the breastplate while the three wheat stocks on his pauldron. Ser Jorah was a combination of his original armor when he first joined my company and details of his second. Only this time, it was stronger, more durable than his previous armor in the fighting pits. I was pleased, knowing my two loyal knights will be secure when the battle transpires.

Anyway, we all huddled around the painted table, making the final arrangements for transport.

"If we have the Dothraki ride hard on the kingsroad, they'll arrive at Winterfell within a fortnight," King Snow suggested as he traced the carving trail.

"And the Unsullied?" I asked.

"We can sail with them to White Harbor, meet the Dothraki here on the Kingsroad, then ride together to Winterfell," King Snow suggested.

"Perhaps you should fly to Winterfell, Your Grace," Ser Jorah advised. "You have many enemies in the North. Thousands fell fighting your father. All it takes is one angry man with a crossbow. He'll see your white hair on the kingsroad and know that one well-placed bolt will make him a hero. The man who killed the conqueror."

"I agreed with Ser Jorah," Ser Barristan added. "Although you and Princess Daenerys have done no wrong, you still live under your father's shadow."

I sighed, looking at the map. The mental disease that has plagued my family since Maegor the Cruel. A Targaryen can be born with madness or is driven into it. My father was driven mad. The weight of the kingdom put on his shoulder at such a young age, along with the responsibilities of producing more heirs. Let alone the number of enemies that were against him since the tragedy of Summerhall. Aerys felt alone, despite having the support of family, men conspired against him. Thus, the paranoia and disappointment drove him bloody mad.

"It's your decision, Your Grace," King Snow said. "But if we're going to be allies in this war, it's important for the Northerners to see us as allies. If we sail to White Harbor together, I think it sends a better message."

All eyes were on me.

"We've not come to conquer the North," Daenerys said. "We're coming to save the North."

I nodded, giving an apologetic look to my loyal knights. Jon Snow has made an excellent point. As much as my ancestor Aegon came to Westeros on Balerion, he did it as a means of intimidation. I don't want to intimidate the Northerners. It has been known since King Snow sent a letter to his half-sister of the truce between House Targaryen and the North. That the North shall be an independent kingdom during my reign and my descendants as well, there has been no response yet, but the King in the North explained there would be a lot of convincing to assure Lady Stark towards peace.

"We sail together," I said. "Although I want everyone to be wearing their armors and guards surrounding us."

Because I don't trust Cersei, for there is a chance she has a spy waiting to kill us.

Once the travel arrangements were settled, I spoke with Theon, letting him know I'll be lending him three ships and a crew to rescue his sister and help in reclaiming the Iron Islands. Varys confirmed that Euron did leave a proper defense on the Iron Islands, and Aeron Greyjoy is maintaining the small kingdom. If we lose in the Great War, we need to be sure we can save the population of humanity, either it is the islands that surround Westeros or evacuating to Essos. My reign still remains in the Bay of Dragons, since I have not yet received a confirmation of a secured council.

Afterward, the meeting was dismissed, and we all prepared for the journey North.

Although I stopped to check on Lady Olenna, she will be staying at Dragonstone. With a hefty bounty on her head by Cersei Lannister and Euron's fleet sailing in the Blackwater Bay. The Queen of Thorns is no longer safe except here at Dragonstone. I'll have a small portion of my Army here guarding Dragonstone to protect the castle and prepare the armies for a possible battle.

Lady Olenna was in Aegon's Garden, sitting on a dark marble bench behind a deviant statue of a dragon. A few of her little girls sat around her, still uncomfortable with the mysterious beauty that the garden provided. They looked up and were surprised to see me. Then again, I haven't socialized with the young maidens who were accompanying Lady Olenna. Been focused on my primary and talked to Lady Olenna.

"Look little doves, a dragon is in the garden," The Queen of Thorns said to her ladies.

"May I have a word with you in private?" I asked.

Lady Olenna nodded, "Run along now."

The three ladies nodded as they stood up, giving a curtsy before departing.

"I see you are still alive," she murmured. "I thought Cersei would lodge an arrow in you."

"I'd had a similar thought," I said, then gestured to the bench. "May I?"

"Yes," she said.

I sat down while Ser Barristan stood to keep guard.

"How are you fairing?" I asked.

"I'm doing well, despite my location. Then again, it's far better than King's Landing," she answered.

I tried not to chuckle at the comment.

"Although I'm disappointed that I'll be missing my grandson's wedding. He should be getting married any day now. Urgent to get the union done with so we can have the Several Stormlanders support."

"I apologize, but your safety is vital."

"So, I've been told. Now, tell me how your meeting with Cersei was."

"She is a bitter woman," I answered.

"I wonder if she is the worst person I've ever met. At a certain age, it's hard to recall. But the truly vile do stand out through the years. I remember the way she smirked at me when my grandson and granddaughter were dragged off to their cells. I'll never forget it. It's because of her my son and two youngest grandchildren are dead. All because she wanted to keep her sons all to herself and not marry Loras. When the dog she fed in those fanatical sparrows bit back, she blamed everyone and blown them up. Never underestimate her."

"She says she'll send her armies north to help us against the Army of the Dead," I said.

"And do you believe her?" She asked.

"No," I answered.

"Good. You are not stupid then. Maybe naïve, but I blame that on your age, thus not stupid." She said then took a serious breath. "If you haven't shown me that beast, I would have thought you were mad as well. All I want is my two grandsons to thrive and their children to live on. I've seen things in Westeros. From your great-grandfather's reign to your fathers. Many wars, but never a war like this."

I nodded.

"If we survive this cold war, remember that Cersei will be waiting. She'll expect you to strike right away. But if I were you, I'd make her wait. She is impatient."

I nodded again, taking the Queen of Thorns advice to heart. She has lived through the years and seen many Kings rule, countless wars, and almost married my grand-uncle. In the end, she is an excellent advisor. If only I could secure her safe passage to Highgarden without the fear of Cersei's wrath. If not praying, she lives a long life to see her great-grandchildren, relieving any worries that House Tyrell through her bloodline remains.

Lady Olenna took my hand and gave it a squeeze, "Your great-grandfather and grandfather would've been proud of you."

I smiled slightly, for it is an honor when people mention good men in my heritage. Especially for King Aegon V, who married for love and tried hard to forge peace with the Seven Kingdoms.

**.o0o.**

_Winterfell_

Samwell arrived at Winterfell with Gilly and Little Sam. It was a difficult decision to leave the citadel, but he knew the Maesters would not provide service towards the cause. They were more about preserving history and writing their own interpretation of events instead of the actual truth. It was a long journey, longer than expected, since Gilly ended up being pregnant and the safety for Little Sam.

In the end, they ended up in Winterfell. The sun had already set when they arrived. Samwell wearing his Brotherhood of the Night's Watch garment, was given easy access, and his horse and wagon secured. First, he made sure his family was comfortable in a room, before entering the Great Keep, asking around if any of the Stark Siblings were available since he got word Jon was still on Dragonstone. Sansa and Arya were occupied, but a soldier was sent to collect Samwell. The Tarly was surprised, as he was escorted into a room where a massive fireplace was lit. In front of the fireplace was none other than Bran. Samwell was baffled and relieved that Bran was alright. Afraid wildings or wights had gotten to the crippled boy.

"Samwell Tarly," Bran greeted casually.

"I wasn't sure if you'd remember me," Samwell said.

"I remember everything," Bran said as a matter of fact.

Samwell didn't know how to respond to that, only gave a smile. He entered the room and closed the door before walking over and taking a seat next to Bran.

"You helped us get beyond the Wall. You're a good man." Bran complimented.

"Oh, well, thank you, but, um, I'm not sure that I am," Samwell replied.

Bran stared at the fire.

"What happened to you beyond the Wall?" Samwell asked.

Bran turned his attention to Samwell, "I became the Three-Eyed Raven."

"Oh!" Samwell said, impressed. "I don't know what that means."

"I can see things that happened in the past. I can see things happening now all over the world. Why did you come to Winterfell?"

"Um . . . Jon's the one to lead the fight against the dead. I know he is. But he can't do it alone, so I've come here to help him."

"He's on his way back to Winterfell with the Dragon Sisters," Bran informed.

"You - You saw this in— in a vision?" Samwell asked.

Only Bran lifted up a raven scroll.

"Oh," Samwell said, slightly embarrassed.

Bran turned his attention to the fire, "He needs to know the truth."

"The truth about what?" Samwell asked.

"About himself," Bran answered. "No one knows — no one but me. Jon isn't really my father's son. He's the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my aunt, Lyanna Stark. He was born in a tower in Dorne. His last name isn't really Snow, it's Sand."

Samwell grasped the information that Bran just said then remember a conversation with Gilly back in Oldtown. He remembers Gilly reading a journal of High Septon Maynard about a divorce. At first, he couldn't make out the names, since Gilly was still teaching us to pronounce Valyrian and Essosian names. But now, Bran mentioning this, Rhager was actually Rhaegar. Rhaegar has asked for an annulment and to be married as soon as possible. In other words, Jon has never been a bastard.

"It's not," Samwell said happily.

Bran was confused, "Dornish bastards are named Sand."

"At the Citadel, my…Gilly transcribed a High Septon's diary. He annulled Rhaegar's marriage to Elia. He wed Rhaegar and Lyanna in a secret ceremony." Samwell explained.

"Are you certain?" Bran asked.

"It's what the High Septon wrote in his private diary. I don't know why he'd lie." Samwell said. "A diary is probably the truest thing in a person's perspective. Is this something you can see?"

Bran paused while still having control of his true self, he warged into the past. He found himself in Dorne, seeing his aunt Lyanna at age sixteen with Rhaegar being twenty-three at the time, making their sacred vows to the Seven. It did not appear forced, nor was his aunt standing there in tears. No, they seemed to be excited about getting married.

"Robert's Rebellion was built on a lie," Bran said, while still observing the wedding.

Observing the moment, Rhaegar secured the marriage by a kiss.

"Rhaegar didn't kidnap my aunt or rape her. He loved her. And she loved him. And Jon . . ."

Bran went to the moment after Jon's birth. When Ned Stark entered the room, to comfort his dying sister. As she laid there in a bed of blood. Both siblings held each other's hand, while Ned combed his free hand through his sister's hair.

"Jon's real name . . ."

Lyanna tried to lean up, which Ned knelt down more to hear his sister speak.

"His name is Aenar Targaryen. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned."

"He's never been a bastard. He's the heir to the Iron Throne. He needs to know. We need to tell him. A son of ice and fire."

**.o0o.**

_The Balerion Ship._

In a private room, dinner was being served for the Targaryen Sisters, Jon, and Ser Jorah. At first, the dinner was peaceful. The occasional conversation about their adventures. A moment to forget they were rulers and relax before the upcoming war. Jon was surprised at how different the sisters were when not their formal selves. Although wine was passed around, except Alysanne did not drink. Mainly it was Daenerys who did most of the talking while Alysanne joined the conversation to correct Daenerys or add her side of the story. Jorah would join in, but not as vocally as the Khaleesi.

Jon saw another side. They did not appear divined, despite their appearance. They actually seemed to be normal, practically human. The atmosphere felt welcoming, almost as he felt with his siblings. It was welcoming, even though there was some formality with the Dragon Queen. As time went on, it was soon getting late.

Alysanne stood up, which Jorah immediately followed, "Well, I had enough socializing for the evening."

"You hardly touched your drink," Daenerys protested.

"I don't drink, remember," Alysanne reminded. "Anyway, it's best we get some rest. We probably won't be getting any once we reach White Harbor."

Jon nodded while Daenerys sighed.

"Goodnight, your grace," Alysanne said to Jon before leaving the cabin.

Jorah gave a slight nod before following after his Queen. Thus, leaving Daenerys and Jon alone in the chamber. Daenerys sighed as she poured a glass for her and Jon.

"Is she alright?" Jon asked.

"She's fine, ever since the poisoning she hardly drinks. Not that I could blame her since she died. A terrible experience for everyone."

Jon nodded, knowing that experience as well. Although being stabbed by your own men is entirely different than being poisoned. One was revenged, and the other was fear. All Jon saw when he died was nothing. Only darkness. As if he had an empty dream, only to wake with a sharp gasp that burned his lungs.

He turned his attention to Daenerys, remembering the conversation he had with Daenerys in the Dragonpits. On the outside, Daenerys looked intimidating with her dragons and the Dothraki, but on the inside, she was only human. She realized her mistakes after seeing the Army of the Dead. During their travels, Daenerys told him what life was like living in exile. And Jon had thought he had a hard life being called a bastard and scornful behaviors from Lady Caitlyn. Daenerys looked at him with a slight smile. She found him attractive, no doubt about it. She also liked, his sense of honor and duty. A man who was nothing, only to become something much better.

Either it was there, or the sense of longing, the two leaned forwards to kiss. The kiss started off soft and gentle. An innocent peck. When they pulled back, Daenerys paused to see if there was interest. Seeing a slight twinkle in his eyes and leaned over to kiss him again. It started slowly only to grew passionate. By the time air was needed, Jon had pulled back to breathe. Tempting as it was, he still felt regret in what happened to Ygritte or the promise to never sleep with a woman he was not married to — not wanting to risk siring a bastard out of wedlock. Let alone not wanting to start a war with the Queen.

Daenerys realized this, Jon wasn't Drogo or Daario. He wasn't straight forward. So, she smiled and took his hand.

"We should probably get some rest," Daenerys said, as she stood up.

Jon nodded, "Yes. Goodnight, Daenerys."

Daenerys nodded as she patted Jon on the shoulder and left. She was leaving the room with a smile on her face. Maybe there can be something in this possible relationship — a way to unite the North with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

As she left the cabin, she noticed Tyrion standing in the hall looking down the corridor behind some stairs. She quietly stood behind him, seeing what Tyrion was spying on. There down the hall, was Alysanne's cabin. Jorah was standing there in front of an open door. They were speaking in Dothraki, though too softly they could not be overheard. Alysanne appearing stressed and tired, as she took Jorah's hand leading him inside.

"You should let them be," Daenerys whispered when the door closed.

Tyrion jumped, startled, not expecting Daenerys standing there. "Your Highness."

"Let them be," she told the dwarf. "He makes her happy."

"I don't think he is worthy of her," he whispered.

"No one is worthy of her," she sighed. "But he is the only one who understands her. Makes her happy."

Ever since Alysanne was a teen, she never was happy. She remembers moments there were smiles that Alysanne gave her sister to make Daenerys happy. But Viserys never made Alysanne genuinely smile. It was always forced, however, back in the Western Market at Vas Dothrak.

"Let them be," Daenerys quietly ordered.

Tyrion was open his mouth to speak.

"Go," Daenerys said, giving him a warning look.

Tyrion closed his mouth, only to nod departing for his cabin. Daenerys sighed, looking at the cabin door with a smile. Despite their hardships, the two love each other. Daenerys will always make sure her older sister was happy.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I asked Jorah to stay in my cabin. After all that has happened in the last few months, I don't want to sleep alone. There was a sense of security when Jorah spends the night. Just feeling his arms around me. You might as well call me hopeless.

Anyway, I removed the black coat and set it on a chair. Missandei was given a few days off to spend time with Grey Worm. She deserves time to be with him, after several months apart when he'd sailed to Casterly Rock and the siege of the Twins, thus freeing Lord Edmure Tully. It's the least I can do. Might as well give her the entire journey. I can manage by myself.

When I turned around, I saw Jorah taking a seat. He started to remove his armor. Deciding to help him, I came over and started working on the straps and links. Ser Barristan and Grey Worm had shown me how armor is assembled and the method of removing each piece. I was surprised by how massive his was compared to mine. Almost to that of jousting armor. Yet, the armor was not jousting armor. Yes, mine has a bit of weight. Maybe the blacksmith used a different technique.

Jorah sighed, left in his gambeson, trousers, and boots.

I smiled softly, cradling his face. He looked up, leaning into my touch. The feeling of a strong pull linked us again. Ever since the Veil, the pull became stronger than ever before. Not a second longer, I was straddling Jorah's lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close for a kiss. I kissed back, wrapping my arms around his neck. Jorah deepened the kiss; he hugged me at the hips, chest, and thighs. During the kiss, his erection nudged into my crotch. He kissed my jaw, neck, and tugged at the fabrics of the tunic.

A moan escaped my lips, entwining my fingers through his hair, slipping my tongue into his mon, tasting the wine he had drank. When I pulled back, I stared into his blue eyes, "I want you."

Jorah all but nodded as he leaned over, kissing my neck, then lashing his tongue over my skin that would send shivers up the spine. A moment later, he stood up and I wrapped my legs around his hips. A few steps over, he settled me on the bed. We pulled back, each of us removing our clothes and boots before lying on the bed naked. Currently, he leaned over me, kissing down to my chest, teasing my breast for a moment before reaching my crotch. Basically, maneuvering my leg to hook over his shoulder as he kissed the sweet spot between my legs and lashed his tongue along the tender fold. Different reactions were escaping my lips as he suckled on the clit and inserted his fingers, pleasuring me, and preparing me for what is to come. So many moans and gasps that had my toes curled and hands were grabbing the bedding and Jorah's hair. My hips were rising, moving along with his moth, which he had to pin me down until I came over the edge.

I panted, opening my eyes, seeing Jorah looming over me, licking his lips. Sitting up, I adjusted him to lay on his back and began kissing his body, caressing along the scars, going down lower only to grasp his member, and cupped his balls. Jorah groaned, not expecting it, as I pumped the hardening staff, making love to it with my hand. I was about to lean over to take him in my mouth, except Jorah groaned in protest, begging to be inside me.

It wasn't long before I straddled his waist, and with a bend of my hand, directed his member inside me. He pumped slowly, eyes closed, and our mouths were touching then not. It was slow, more about feeling each other than fucking. His hands were sliding around my back, tracing my spine until securing around my waist. He thrust up, deep and hard while I rolled my hips back and forth. My chest pressed against him. Lips locked in a passionate kiss. Suddenly, Jorah sat up, embracing me closer, grasping my buttocks, and added additional force. I gasped from the change of angle, securing my legs moving to meet his pace.

It was becoming too much; his skills overwhelming that is was hard to keep up. Jorah, recognizing it, rolled us around so he was on top. We panted, still joined yet paused to stare at each other. I reached up to cradle his cheek, feeling the whiskers of his beard and the warm flesh. He took hold of my hand gingerly, leaning in and kissed my wrist. Our lips soon joined, which Jorah thrust again, and I took everything that he gave.

No matter what, we were together. A bear from the land of ice and a dragon from the sky of fire.

* * *

**Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Some of you may ask why the name change on Jon's name. It was a thought that came by. How did Lyanna know about Elia and her children being dead while she was in the Tower of Joy? What are the chances of Elia's son Aegon was still alive, and suddenly Aegon discovers he has a half-brother who is name Aegon as well? Well, that was conflicting. So, I change Jon's Targaryen name to Aenar. To those who are wondering, Aenar was a Dragonlord who left Valyria because he believes in his daughter's visions of the doom. He is the one who built Dragonstone. Basically, he saved a lot of lives, and I felt there was some connection between them.**


	78. Chapter 78: Til the walls did crumble an

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx 52**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

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**Chapter 78: Til the walls did crumble and fall**

_Eastwatch-By-The-Sea_

Tormund and Lord Beric walked along the top of the Wall. Many of the Free Folk and Men of the Nights Watch were at their stations. Ever since the expedition that happened about a month ago, the men have been on high alert, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting until the Army of the Dead shows up. As the two continued to walk, they noticed ravens and crows on top of the Wall. Usually only winter birds and seagulls' perch here, so why are the birds of death perching about.

Tormund, having a gut feeling, went to one of the posts. Lord Beric followed him as they looked down, staring at the mile-long field that reaches towards the forest. Something was amiss as it began to snow.

"It's a long way down," Lord Beric said.

"Yeah," Tormund agreed. "The crows keep telling me I'll get used to it."

"According to the tales we are standing on a dragon," Beric added.

Tormund snorted, "I've ridden a dragon. Probably the first wildling. I doubt a dragon lies in this Wall."

"One never knows," Beric said. "The Wall was built eight-thousand years ago. Bran the Builder and his descendants worked hard in building it. Some say it was the assistant of the Children and giants. Others say an ice dragon. In the end, the Wall separates us from the Others."

Tormund nodded as he looked down. He thought he saw something as he squinted his eyes, noticing something coming out from the forest. A Watcher who had a spyglass realized what the gathering was and blew the warning horn. The Dead were already here.

"I can see movement!"

"Watch, on the tree line!"

Tormund gasped, as he saw heavy clouds of a storm fast approaching.

A lone rider dragged someone came forward onto the field. It was the Night King. He got off his decaying horse and walked over to the prisoner. It was Benjen Stark. The Night King stared at the hybrid, before grabbing the Horn of Joramun. A black carved horn with metal bands that was designed with the marking of the First Men, created by the legendary King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Benjen had found the Horn buried in the Frostfang. He attempted to destroy the magical Horn before the Army of the Dead scavenged for it. However, he was caught by the White Walkers. Instead of killing him, they brought him to the east coast and was dragged by the Night King's stead. The former Ranger lunged forward, trying to tackle the Night King. Unfortunately, the Night King avoided the attack, and with his other hand, plunged it deep into Benjen's chest. Benjen gasped, his grey eyes widen in shock as he felt the icy hand lodged in his chest, grabbing his heart and the dragonglass. He gazed up at the White Walker, who gave an emotionless expression, before yanking it out. Both mortal and magical life taken from him as he fell to his knee and onto the ground. Dead. Forever dead, left alone to reawaken and become a Wight.

The Night King turned around, taking a few steps towards the Wall. He brought the Horn to his frozen lips and took an empty breath, breathing in and exhaling on the mouthpiece. A sound like no other bellowed from the Horn. The Horn's noise silences all over the top of the Wall. The Horn's noise sounded like the screaming of a thousand dragons, as those hearing it, felt their very bone shake, as coldness burned their flesh with fear while their ears bleed. Tormund and Beric had to cover their ears from the sound, let along with a constant ringing.

And then there was silence.

Nothing happened.

Only the sounds of the waves crashing along the shore and the winds.

Suddenly there was a large crack.

Tormund and Beric tensed, feeling the vibrations beneath their feet. The sound of cracking continued, as the Wall began to shake then crumbled. No one knew what was going on, other than the Wall that has lasted eight-thousand years began to fall apart.

"Come on!" Tormund yelled, rushing to the Wall. "Come on!"

As he ordered everyone down the stairs or further to the West before it was too late, and they fall seven-hundred feet to their death. All the men scurried down the steps, seeing the cracks forming, racing against the men as they try to get to the bottom.

When all of a sudden, there was a burst, an explosion, as the shrapnel of ice exploded all about. Tormund looked up; eyes widening, seeing a wing coming out of the Wall, followed by another. The creature reached out from its icy cage, elongating its neck, revealing to be a dragon. Not just any dragon, but an Ice Dragon that was the size of Drogon. It shrieks, crawling out of the Wall, causing more destruction. The Horn of Jaruman was more than a magical horn to destroy the Wall. No, the Horn awakens the Ice Dragon that has been locked inside the Wall for eight-thousand years. And most importantly, it was angry. It wants to seek revenge on the mortals that trapped him there.

The magic of the Horn locked the bonding spell between the Night King and the Ice Dragon. It shrieks again, yanking his feet out of its confines and swooped down in front of the Night King. The Night King stood there, gazing at the translucent beast, as their pale blue crystal eyes locked to one another. He stepped forward, placing a hand on the dragon, the magic sealing their bond. Nodding in approval, the Night King climbed on. They took to the sky, their minds in sync, as the Ice Dragon raised his neck and breathed frozen fire, destroying the Wall.

Tormund and Lord Beric continued to run, making way to the other side. Both looked over their shoulders, seeing the Wall collapsing as men fell to their death. Once the Wall in that section was down, the rubble destroyed Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, leaving a passageway for the Army of the Dead to cross through. They march, forming a straight line slowly making their way down South. As the Night King lead the way on his new companion.

Bran, who watched this through his ravens, returned to his body and knew it was time to call the Banners.

Meanwhile, in the Narrow Sea near White Harbor, Alysanne shot up awake from her vision/nightmare with a scream. Jorah is woken up from surprise as he sat up. He touches her shoulder, feeling how cold it was. It was cold as ice. When he looked at her eyes, he saw an expression he never saw before — pure utter terror.

"Alysanne," He softly whispered. "What is it? What did you see?"

She turned her head slowly, her eyes still wide.

"Eastwatch is no more." She said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The Night King…he has broken through, and a Dragon of Ice shall wreak havoc over Westeros."

Jorah's eyes widen when hearing it.

The Long Night has begun.

* * *

**I know this is a short chapter. But I felt like the destruction of the Wall deserves its own chapter.**

**Thus ends Season 7**

**Also the final chapter of_ A Doe in a Lion's Den_ is up. **

**Take a look and leave a review!**

**Thank you for reading and please leave a review!**


	79. Chapter 79: Winterfell

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

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**Chapter 79: Winterfell**

I sat in the main cabin of the ship, looking at Daenerys and Jon. When I woke up, my scream was compared to a banshee, waking nearing everyone on the ship. I was still catatonic from the vision I had. Jorah, he tried his best to calm my nerves in the early hours of dawn. Only Daenerys was allowed in my cabin to ease my tension. However, everyone wants to know what is going on. Only my Small Councils are aware of my ability, but only Jorah and Daenerys understand the extent. So, in the cabin, finally, back to my senses, I stared at everyone in the room.

"You had another vision?" Daenerys murmured.

"Vision?" King Snow asked.

I sighed, "I have the ability to have visions."

"How is that possible?" King Snow asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, either it's from the House of the Undying or dragon magic," I explained. "In the ends, I get these visions now and then when I least expect it."

"What did you see?" Daenerys asked.

"The Wall, the Army of the Dead has broken through," I answered

"How?" King Snow asked.

I took a deep breath, "I'm sorry Jon, but your Uncle didn't make it."

His eyes widen, asking how through his expression.

"He found the Horn of Joranum; unfortunately, the White Walkers got a hold of him. The Night King, he used the horn to awaken the Ice Dragon." I explained.

"So, the legends are true," Jorah sighed.

"What legend?" Daenerys asked.

"Long ago, after the first long night, Bran the Builder built the Wall, but no one knows for sure how he built it," Jorah explained. "Many believe he started it, and his children and descendants continue the name and the project. Others believe it was the children of the Forest and the Giants who helped him build the Wall. And then there is a legend that the Children made a magical horn to control an Ice Dragon that journeyed West beyond the Shivering Sea. The dragon was wild, who breathed flames of ice that can either destroy or create. So, with that Horn, Bran had control over the dragon and build the Wall. However, the dragon was still wild; once Bran the Builder died, the spell would be broken, so he had the dragon bury itself in the Wall. Never to cause its destruction again. Meanwhile Bran gave the horn to Joranum to take it beyond the Wall, keeping it hidden."

"No doubt he thought the dragon would have died. But no, his element of ice kept him alive. After eight-thousand years, he has become angrier, full of rage and wanting revenge against humanity for putting him in there." I added.

"And how do you know this?" King Snow asked.

I sighed, "I've had a few visions of the Ice Dragon. The first happened when I conquered Meereen. It was of Daenerys, you, and I fighting against the Night King on a dragon."

"You saw me years ago?" Jon was surprised.

"I wasn't sure who I saw," I lied. "Only a potential threat from the Night King. The next vision I saw was a few months ago, seeing the ice dragon frozen, feeling his anger — this primal rage. And now the Ice Dragon is released and bonded with the Night King. Along with the Army of the Dead, and I'll say this, we'll need the numbers we can get."

"How many?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Probably the same population as King's Landing," I answered. "We will need all the men we can get."

Everyone nodded; this was a serious matter. We have to leave White Harbor with no delay. So that is what we did. The Unsullied and soldiers started to assemble to march North. As the Unsullied continued to assemble or getting the supply wagons. We want this to be done before noon, before heading towards Winterfell.

I gave a shudder, still not accustomed to such coldness. It was about high noon when a ship made port. Everyone was confused, for it had red sails with flame emblem. Also, the ship was a Volantenes ship. Why is a ship from Volantis here?

"Does the North do trade with the Volante?" I asked King Snow.

"No, never even seen one," King Snow answered.

The plank came down along with two women. One wore a red dress while the other had a multi-hexagon gown — both wearing an elaborate mask of bronze or gold. Ser Davos, who was next to King Snow, tensed, glaring at the women while Jorah was surprised. It took me a moment to realize these women were from the R'hllor religion — priestesses from the Lord of Light. The two came over to us, giving a bow, as the woman in the multi-hexagon dress spoke.

"Your Grace, I am the one called Quaithe, and my sister and I have come to serve you in these dark times," Quaithe said.

"You are the Shadowbinder who helped Ser Jorah in Qarth and in the Veil," I noted.

Quaithe nodded, "That I did."

"What brings you here?" Ser Jorah asked.

"The Priestess Melisandre had returned to the Red Temple, informing the High Priestess Kinvara of the events that have unfolded. She has sent five-hundred soldiers to help in your cause." Quaithe announced.

I nodded; The Red Priestess Melisandre had offered to go to Volantis to acquire some help. She said the Fiery Hand could be of service — soldiers of the Lord of Light who can conjure fire onto their weapons. Although I had mixed emotions, knowing Volantis is still a slave city, and the R'hllor religion takes in slaves to convert them into soldiers, prostitutes, or priest/priestess in their cause. I made sure that Melisandre pass the message only those willing to fight may come.

"And where is Melisandre?" I asked.

"She is banished from the North; if she had come, then the King in the North would have her head," Quaithe said.

I turned my attention to King Snow and Ser Davos. Both nodded at this statement. It must be because of Shireen Baratheon. Melisandre had sacrificed the poor girl to a brutal god. I will never understand the R'hllor religion. If desperate times didn't call for extreme measures, I would have executed her myself.

With nothing else to say, I focused on the departure. Although, I noticed Quaithe staring at Jorah and me. As if she knows something.

"As long as no one is burning people or judging one's religion, you may join us," King Snow told Quaithe. "We can use all the help we could get."

Quaithe and her companion nodded as they got the Fiery Hand to join the Unsullied. Excusing myself, I walked away to check my cabin to ensure I have everything I needed. So much was happening, and time is dwindling faster than sand in an hourglass. Alliances have been forged, yet there is one army I believe won't keep their word. Something told me Cersei Lannister would not hold her end of the bargain. Can the Unsullied, Dothraki, the Fiery Hand, the Reach, the Northerners, Knights of the Vale, the Wildings, and three dragons be enough on the battlefield? Already Ser Barristan has been going over battle strategies.

But do we have enough time?

**.o0o.**

_Winterfell_

It took a couple of days before arriving at Winterfell. The Dothraki have not arrived yet, although there have been sightings that they are only a few days away from us. As reports came, there was a slight difficulty at the Neck of Westeros. Let alone the Reach's Army and the Tarly forces are a week away as well after getting supplies. The union between House Tyrell and House Wensington was a success as Lord Willas and Lady Elain are married. Ships from the Stormlands with Storm Knights are on their way as we speak from Lady Elain's dowry. House Martell has sent supplies since their men were not trained for the cold weather, yet Prince Doran assures me the armies will be ready for the second war. There was still no word from House Lannister, which Tyrion seemed to notice. However, he was always giving his sister the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, I stare ahead over the Unsullied who were marching into the Great Keep of Winterfell. The memories of my nightmare when encountering the Ice Dragon sent shivers down my spine. If the vision was accurate, the battle will take place here, and…my possible death. Daenerys noticed my shiver, giving a concerned look. I forced a smile, assuring her it was just the weather. Winter has definitely come in the North. The further we enter the Northern Kingdom from White Harbor, the colder the weather has become. Snow packing on the ground, the air arctic cold that your ears were stinging. All my life, I've never experienced such coldness before except for the rescue mission beyond the Wall. It was like the Night King's magic was once more stirring in my spine.

King Snow took the lead as Daenerys, and I rode our horses behind him. We want to ensure the Northerners that Jon Snow is still King in the North. We are allies. I am not here to take the North as Aegon did. King Snow did not bend the knee like Torrhen Stark did. However, it doesn't stop the stares and glares the people were giving us. Outcasts and strangers, foreign invaders of the Mad King's Daughters. Daenerys noticed this, yet I continue to stare forward, knowing there is one person I need to convince that King Snow warned me about. Lady Sansa Stark.

Tyrion informed me about Lady Sansa, along with King Snow filling in the rest on her life. The girl went through the Seven Hells, same as I did. Yet she overcame it. Primarily dealing with her late sadistic husband. Poetic justice I dare say towards Ramsey Bolton, to torture people with his Hounds only to be eaten by them. Sansa holds an intense patriotism for the North. She wants the North to be its own independent Kingdom. So, when there is time, I will assure her the North will be its own Kingdom.

"I warned you," King Snow told Daenerys, who was still glancing at the people. "Northerners don't much trust outsiders."

Daenerys stared at them when all of a sudden, Drogon roars flying over the city. Viserion and Rhaegal followed. The Northerners gasped or screamed, clamoring at the sight of the dragons. I raised my brow, giving her a scolding look, knowing she summoned Drogon over. She merely smirked, acting innocent. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

It wasn't long when we enter the Great Keep. In the central courtyard, the welcoming party was there, as House Stark and its Council stood. King Snow rushed his horse over to them, as he got off his horse and went to hug a young man in a wheelchair. I assume the young man was Brandon Stark. Although, the joys of being reunited with his half-brother vanished when Brandon said something. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah came over to Daenerys and I, as my lover, helped me down off my horse. Missandei came over with a case, holding an offering I intended to give to the Starks. We stood there waiting, as King Snow hugged Lady Sansa, yet the Lady gave us a cautious look. King Snow pulled back and gestured us over.

We came over as I stood in front with Daenerys beside me.

"Queen Alysanne of House Targaryen, and her sister, the Khaleesi Daenerys Stormborn," King Snow introduced. "My sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell."

"Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark," I replied. "The North is as beautiful as _his grace_ claimed, as are you."

Lady Sansa was taken back when I addressed King Snow as _his grace_, ensuring her brother was still King in the North. In the end, it even doesn't stop her caution. I gestured Missandei over who came holding an ornate case, as she opened it to reveal its content. Inside was a gold casting of an olive branch, with emerald leaves and onyx and jade gems in the shape of olives. I grabbed hold of the bejeweled olive branch and offered it to Lady Sansa. She was surprised by this.

"Please accept this gift," I said with a genuine smile.

_Please accept this extended olive branch for peace in our two monarchies and reconciliations in the actions of what my family has done to yours, _I thought.

Lady Sansa's eyes widen when seeing the gift glancing at King Snow, who nodded. She accepted the olive branch before staring at me.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Your Grace," she said, still a sharp tone.

I merely forced a smile and nodded. It will take more than a gift to earn her trust.

"We don't have time for this," Brandon called out. All eyes turned to him. "The Night King has awoken the Ice Dragon. He's one of them now. The Wall has fallen, the dead march south."

It surprised me that he is aware of this. There was something off about him. Feel a strange atmosphere I haven't felt since the House of the Undying. The presence of magic. Only this was no illusion. How does he know about this, unless…?

Daenerys and King Snow glanced at one another before turning their attention to Lady Sansa.

"We should head inside," Lady Sansa advised.

We nodded as the Lords of the North have been assembled inside.

**.o0o.**

Everyone was assembled in the Great Hall. The lords of the North stood on the sides, leaving an aisle while in the front of the massive chamber was a long table where the royals were. King Snow sat center. On his right was Lady Sansa and Brandon. Meanwhile, on his left, was Daenerys and I, while on the end was Tyrion. There was tension since two Targaryens were in the Great Hall. The daughters of the Mad King who burned their previous warden, Lord Rickard Stark, and his eldest son Brandon.

Lady Sansa took charge of going over the details of the assembly.

"As soon as we heard about the Wall, I called all our banners to retreat to Winterfell," Lady Sansa said. "Lord Umber . . ."

A young boy probably around the age of ten stuck his head out of a wall of bearded men and came over. He was nervous as he gave a bow.

". . . when can we expect your people to arrive?" Lady Sansa asked.

"We need more horses and wagons if it pleases my lady," the young boy said, then addressed King Snow and I. "And my . . . Lord. And my Queen. Sorry."

I gave Lord Umber a reassuring smile. He blushes slightly, smiling for a second, then focus on Lady Sansa.

"You'll have as many as we can spare," Lady Sansa replied. "Hurry back to the Last Hearth and bring your people here."

Lord Umber bowed before leaving to do as instructed.

"We need to send ravens to the Night's Watch as well," King Snow said. "There's no sense in manning the castles anymore. We make our stand here."

Maester Walkon, who was in a corner, bowed, "At once, Your Grace."

"' _Your Grace._'" A young woman with dark hair and eyes said. If I am correct, she is Lady Lyanna Mormont. She stood up, taking center. "But you're not. Are you? You left Winterfell a King and came back a – I'm not sure what you are now. A lord? Nothing at all?"

King Snow sighed, "It's not important."

"Not important?" Lady Mormont repeated. "We named you King in the North."

The men exclaimed their agreement. Apparently, King Snow did not inform his people of the alliance and agreement of truce. We have been so busy preparing for the Great War that we did not draft the peace between us.

I stood up, which silence the men.

"You did, my lady," I said. "Jon Snow is still the King in the North. Instead of bending the knee, he extended his hand of truce — an alliance. I must apologize on both his and my behalf of not sharing this news with you all. You all shared your faith in your King, but when he left Winterfell, he left in need of allies, or you all die. He has kept his word and brought my sister and me here to fight alongside you. He had a choice, keep his crown or protect the North. In all my years, I have never seen a leader who would risk his life for his people. Therefore, I am breaking the oath Torrhen Stark made to King Aegon during the War of Conquest. Thus, the North will forever be the North."

The men were surprised, chattering and sighs of relief in knowing that I renounced their oaths to House Targaryen that their ancestral King had made. Lady Lyanna nodded in approval as she returned to her seat. This should ensure that the North will forever be its own Kingdom and House Stark as their Monarch through King Snow's bloodline. Maybe one day, the North shall return to the crown, but it will not happen during our generation.

Tyrion then stood up as I sat down. He walked around the table facing the Lords.

"If anyone survives the war to come, we'll have Jon Snow to thank," Tyrion said. "He risked his life to show us the threat is real. Thanks to his courage, we have brought with us the greatest Army the world has ever seen. We have brought three full-grown dragons. And soon, the Lannister army will ride north to join our cause."

The men grumbled or shouted their distaste for the Lannister army. Then again, who could blame them after the War of the Five Kings and what the Lannisters did to their previous King, Robb Stark? Or that King Joffrey Baratheon executed Ned Stark.

"I know, I know, our people haven't been friends in the past," Tyrion said, gaining their attention. "But we must fight together now. . .or die."

"May I ask, how are we meant to feed the greatest army the world has ever seen?" Lady Sansa softly asked. "While I ensured our stores would last through winter, I didn't account for Dothraki, Unsullied, and three full-grown dragons. What do dragons eat, anyway?"

"Whatever they want," Daenerys answered her question.

I sighed, turning my attention to Lady Sansa, who was baffled by my sister's response.

"I assure you, Lady Sansa, we've brought provisions, our alliances with the Reach and Dorne shall supply food and men. Apologies for worrying you on the provisions."

Lady Sansa merely nodded.

I sighed; taking a deep breath, this is going to be a long war of pride.

**.o0o.**

After the meeting, a maid escorted my Council to the East Wing of the Great Keep. Everyone either went their separate ways to rest or to explore the castle. Once in my chambers, I sat down on the bed and sighed, it is clear Lady Sansa and Daenerys won't be getting along. As much as it would be appreciated to form some sort of familiar relationship with House Stark, I did not come here to make friends. I came here to make an alliance to fight against the Night King and his Army.

We only have a couple of weeks before the Army of the Dead arrives. Right now, the Unsullied and the Fiery Hand are assembling their camp. In a few days, they will start digging the trenches. Although tomorrow, there will be a war meeting to discuss battle strategies in how to deal with the enemy.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"It's me," Ser Jorah replied.

"Come in," I said, working on my armor to take it off.

Jorah entered the room, sighing once the door was shut. Unfortunately, we will not be sharing a room during our stay in Winterfell. The North was slightly conservative, having a displeased view of unmarried maidens to share a room with a man or premarital sex. Yet they were fine with men whoring at the brothels — stupid double standard. Thus, Jorah has taken residence in his own room. Honestly, I don't want to be alone at night. After that vision at White Harbor of the Wall coming down, I have slept better.

"You weren't joking when you say the Northerners were stubborn," I muttered.

Jorah chuckled as he came over to help take off my armor.

"It is in our blood," he said, taking the spaulders off.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head, "Especially the women."

"Aye, my cousin is a bear indeed," he said.

It took me a moment to realize what he said. There were barely a handful of women in the room. The Starks were not related to the Mormonts. None that I am aware of, so that left the young girl.

"Lyanna Mormont," Jorah sighed.

_His only living relative,_ I thought sadly.

House Mormont is a dying breed, just like House Targaryen.

I nodded, "The Fiery Hand, Shadowbinders, Stubborn Northerners, what else is there?"

Jorah chuckled as he leaned down and pecked me on the forehead, "We will get through this."

"Although, you would wish me not to be here," I countered.

"I will not lie; I do not what want you to fight. You are too import to me and the kingdom." He confessed.

I cradled his cheek, "I know, but I must. Visenya has prepared me for this."

Jorah sighed knowing there is no point in stopping me. I will fight in this war to ensure the safety of Westeros. I do not believe that this is not my destiny. But I have a responsibility to protecting the people. I need to redeem House Targaryen by name and reputation. Even if it cost me my life.

* * *

**Hey guys sorry for the long wait. A lot was going on and celebrating my birthday.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	80. Chapter 80: Battlefield

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Survey question at the bottom.**_

_**Languages:**_

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 80: Battlefield**

_Alysanne's POV_

I've seen many battle plans since my conquest in Slaver's Bay. I've seen the Unsullied battle strategies of sieges, the Second Sons methods, and the Westerosi battle strategies from Ser Barristan and Jorah. Even witnessing the Dothraki in battle and pillaging. But never have I seen such a poor battle strategy presented itself to me than right now. In the War Council chamber, I stare at the table where Jon Snow and Ser Davos arranged for the attack. Ser Barristan held the same disbelief as me.

_What in Seven Hells is this?_ Visenya thought as well.

The King in the North, recommended the armies to dig a single trench around the Great Keep, filled with spikes. In front of the trench will be the troops, the Unsullied taking center along with managing the catapults and trebuchets. Meanwhile, the first flank will be the Dothraki, who will charge in straight into the Army of the Dead. The worse thing was, King Snow wanted to wait until the Night King appears on his dragon before releasing our dragons. Therefore, leaving the men to defend themselves.

"What do you think?" King Snow asked.

Grey Worm, Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, and I stared at him like a complete idiot.

"How many battles have you fought?" I asked.

"Two," King Snow answered.

"Where at?"

"One in Castle Black the other was the Battle of the Bastards," he answered.

"Ser Davos, did the Battle of the Bastards go as planned?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Uh, no, not quite," the Onion Knight confessed. "We sort of went of head-on."

There was more to the story from what I heard from Varys; it was the Knights of the Vale who ended the battle. I took a deep breath, the irritating feeling I haven't felt since Viserys was still alive. The excuse of King Snow was a young man, blooded in battle isn't good enough. He may know the enemy, but it is clear he doesn't understand battles to this degree. We are not going against a House or a City, we are up against an army that can't be killed so easily.

"The strategies are a good draft, but it not suitable for battle," Ser Barristan started, moving the miniature totems in the proper location. "The artillery needs to be behind the trenches, keeping the catapults and trebuchets away from the enemy. They need to continue fire until we are all out of ammunition."

"Aye," Ser Jorah agreed. "Let alone a single trench is not enough. We need to have multiples on the north side while keeping a field enough for the Dothraki and cavalry."

I turned to Dickon, who joined the battle meeting since his father's army is on the way, "Can the Tarly forces manage the wall?"

"The archers can, but we need to make sure all archers cover every vantage point," Dickon said.

"May I ask what seems to be the problem with our plans?" Ser Davos asked.

"Time," I answered. "You're giving the enemy a straightforward attack. What we need is time to slow the enemy down. As Ser Jorah recommends, is we make a 250 to a 300-meter distance to make a trench, allowing artillery fire and the dragons drapes. It doesn't need to be fancy, but if we can get the ax men to collect trees in the nearby forest and harness the Dothraki forces to halt these into place."

"They need to work continuously, along with additional workers to chop the branches and sharpening them as stakes," Ser Barristan added.

"There we can leave a hundred- and fifty-meter gap to allow the Dothraki to roam," Ser Jorah added. "There they can pick off any of the undead that managed to get through. If the artillery line is out, then the cavalry has plenty of room to perform cycle charges or fall back."

"Follow by another fortification or a trench, damming up the enemy within archer range,"

Dickon added. "Along with gangplanks ready to allow the troops to retreat when necessary."

"And the last fortification being manned where half of the army would be, while the other half inside," Ser Barristan added. "With chevrons made of staked mounds. If it comes to the retreat, then the flaming trench will be used."

Ser Davos, King Snow, and other members were surprised by the battle strategies my men and I created. Other than Dickon, Ser Barristan fought in many wars in Westeros. Ser Jorah, he fought in the Usurpers rebellion, the Greyjoy rebellion, serving in the Golden Companies wars, and the wars I took part in Slaver's Bay.

"Do we have the time to make this?" King Snow asked.

"If we start now, we will," Ser Barristan confirmed.

"Although, I'd like to address the evacuation," I said.

"Evacuation?" Ser Davos asked.

"You're seriously are not letting the women, children, and the elderly to stay and fight, or hide in the castle?" I asked.

There was silence between them.

I took a deep breath, "Those who are not capable of fighting, need to leave for White Harbor. Catligar and Velyarion ships are there waiting to evacuate. If we do not win this war, we can at least save as many people as possible."

King Snow nodded in agreement. As many men and warriors, we can get on the battlefield, we still need to consider the innocent not qualified to fight in battle. Ser Davos recommended those who volunteers to stay, should be kept in the crypts. However, Tyrion spoke up saying,

"You want to put the women and the children in a crypt with the dead people?" Tyrion asked.

"Especially when the Night King could resurrect the dead?"

He had a good point there.

So, the women and children who risk themselves to stay would be put in the Great Hall barricaded on both sides, and the fireplace secured. It's the best we could do. Once the meeting was over, we went straight into calculating the distance between firing an arrow and firing the catapults. A few attempts and we mark the range, and the Unsullied and Northerners started digging the trenches. Meanwhile, the ax men began cutting down trees.

Although there was a slight problem. The earth was hard to dig through as it was winter. Even with the men using the ox with the plough was difficult.

"We may need to consider just focusing on one trench," King Snow said, as we watch the men try to dig.

I scowled, then stared at the farmer, trying to assist with his ox and plough. Then an idea came along.

"We will need a bigger plough," I said.

"Huh?" he replied, confused.

"Get as many ploughs or the largest one," I told him, before fetching Viserion.

The King in the North was confused but did as I instructed. I summoned for Viserion, who arrived onto the field and stretched. I walked over, giving him a good rub on the face, which he purred leaning into my touch.

"I'm going to need your help," I told him.

Viserion raised a brow.

"I promise a nice ox as a reward," I promised.

This got his attention as he nodded. After twenty minutes, King Snow and several of my men arrived with the largest ploughs and several more with the thickest rope they could find. Ser Jorah realized what I was planning and chuckled, shaking his head. We took the ropes, securing them on the ploughs before tying the other end to either the golden dragons' legs and tail. It took several tries to secure the ropes and getting the ploughs deep into the earth and snow. But it wasn't long till Viserion crawled his way across the field, digging the first trenches. Everyone who was on the field watched in amazement. Let alone seeing a dragon latterly farming.

It only took a few hours to dig the trenches, and the fortification started enough for the men to get into softer dirt. Parts of the trench near Winterfell were dug up by man since there were parts of the gateways that needed to be done. In the end, using Viserion as an ox, gave us the advantage of breaking through the earth to get the battlefield ready.

"And to think dragons could be domesticated," Ser Barristan jests.

The two Unsullied brought an old ox over to Viserion. They quickly ran away, as Viserion breathed fire, cooking his reward. Of course, the farmer was compensated, but Viserion deserved his treat.

"You have a creative mind, just like Rhaegar," Ser Barristan added.

A few northerners who heard the compliment glared at Ser Barristan.

"We shouldn't mention my brother or father," I whispered.

The North Remembers, as the saying goes. They remember what Rhaegar did to their Lady. Although I know the truth, that Rhaegar did not kidnap her after talking to him in the Veil, it doesn't stop the matter that he took their Warden's daughter that started a war. An unnecessary war. Ser Barristan nodded in agreement. I cannot earn the Northerners' respect so easily. All I can do, is help them save Westeros against a common enemy.

**.o0o.**

_Winterfell_

The Dothraki and half of the Reach army arrived at Winterfell a few days later. Leading the Reach Army was Ser Garlan of House Tyrell. He had the armies assembled the moment Lady Olenna sent a letter to Hightower after seeing a Wight. One thing the Tyrell brothers knew was to never question their grandmother. So, without hesitation, half of their forces assembled their provisions and began marching North with twenty-thousand men. Jon was relieved to see both Dothraki and the Reach arriving in time, as the morning was spent talking to Ser Garlan with the War Council going over the battle strategies, approving on the new one. Ser Garlan had fought many battles since the War of the Five Kings, even in the Battle of the Blackwater with his brother Ser Loras before heading back to Highgarden when plans to collect Lady Sansa as his brother's bride failed. Sansa merely acknowledges his presence but did not go further.

All in all, their numbers were rising.

"And what about the Stormlands?" Alysanne asked Ser Garlan.

"Lady Elain's dowry has provided a thousand Stormland knights. The War of the Five Kings has caused a lot of their population to dwindle under Stannis' reign and expedition up North. I'm sorry, your grace," Ser Garlan explained.

"Thousand good men are more than nothing," she said, which Jon agreed.

However, there was still no word from the Lannister army. Dismissing the meeting, Alysanne Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah took Ser Garlan to discuss more strategies. Daenerys came over to Jon, recommending they go for a walk. Meanwhile, Ser Davos, Tyrion, and Varys walked around the Keep.

In the courtyard, another House has arrived with its forces. It was House Karstark, led by Lady Alys Karstark with her army and volunteer men. She did not bring her civilians, since getting the raven midway with orders to take the civilians to White Harbor. She complied, obeying her King's orders.

Ser Davos, Varys and Tyrion watched as Lord Royce came over greeting Lady Alys and escorting her inside with her council.

"The Karstarks," Varys noted, seeing their banner of a white sunburst on a black field.

"One of the better sigils," Tyrion said. "Beats an onion, anyway."

Ser Davos rolled his eyes as they began to walk, "Can't argue with that. Not so long ago, the Starks and the Karstarks were slaughtering each other on the battlefield. Jon Snow brought peace to the houses."

"And our Queen is grateful," Tyrion said.

"Her gratitude is lovely, but that's not my point," Ser Davos replied. "The Northmen are loyal to Jon Snow, not to her. They don't know her. The Free Folk don't know her. I've been up here a while, and I'm telling you, they're stubborn as goats. You want their loyalty; you have to earn it."

Tyrion paused, looking at the two men walk by. He knows that. That is why Alysanne is taking a more significant loss by evoking her claim on the North. She was giving the Norths its independence as compensation for what her family did to their previous Warden. But it was clear, she was not specific on the truce she and Jon Snow had made. With their focus on the battle that is to come, the truce of clear allegiance is uncertain of the agreement. Usually, these alliances are sorted through one resolution…marriage. However, there is one problem, Queen Alysanne has no intention of getting married except to one man. Her lover Ser Jorah.

Another thing he will have to mend with House Mormont if Lady Lyanna wasn't so…occupied. If that is one way to say for the young, she-bear's avoidance to those who were not Northerners. Although, there is still one more member of House Targaryen that is still eligible.

He climbed up the stairs to get on the wall, to join Varys and Ser Davos. They stared at the North Side, facing the battlefield where the battle will take place. Seeing the men hard at work, getting the fortifications and trenches assembled. On the field were Jon and Daenerys, checking on the men in their progress. During the journey up north, the dwarf noticed the two being acquainted on the ship.

"I sense that you're leading to a proposal," Tyrion said.

"A proposal is what I'm proposing," Ser Davos replied. "On the off chance we survive the Night King, what if the Seven Kingdoms, for once in their whole shit history, were ruled by a just woman and an honorable man?"

"They do make a handsome couple," Tyrion agreed.

"You overestimate our influence," Varys said. "Jon and Daenerys don't want to listen to lonely old men."

"I'm not that old," Tyrion disagreed then glance at Ser Davos. "Not as old as him."

"And the final say goes to Queen Alysanne," Varys added.

"Our Queen respects the wisdom of age," Tyrion said.

"Of course, she does," Varys agreed sarcastically. "Respect is how the young keep us at a distance, so we don't remind them of an unpleasant truth."

"What is that?" Tyrion asked.

"Nothing lasts," Varys sighed as he turned his attention to the courtyard, seeing Alysanne walking with Ser Jorah. They appeared in their professional roles, of Queen and General. But the way they express their emotions shows they care about one another. True love in its slightest form.

**.o0o.**

Daenerys and Jon walked over to the trench, seeing the progress of the men's work. They were about four feet in, needing to get a few more before inserting the spikes. The Unsullied stopped what they were doing, standing at attention, giving respect towards the Khaleesi. Meanwhile, the Northerners paused, nodding their heads to Jon, though one man glared at Daenerys before going back to work. Daenerys frowns slightly, despite everything she and Alysanne were giving for the North, they were still being treated as an outcast.

The worst being Lady Sansa. Over the past week, Lady Sansa has been harsh on them or been avoiding the Dragon sisters. Daenerys would like to address this with Jon.

"Your sister doesn't like me," Daenerys started.

Jon sighed, "She doesn't know you."

She raised a brow.

"If it makes you feel better, she didn't like me either when we were growing up," he tried to reason. Maybe earn a chuckle.

"She doesn't need to be my friend . . . but Alysanne and I are giving a lot for your cause," she told him. "If she can't respect us . . . "

She couldn't finish as she heard the Dothraki calling for her. Daenerys walked over to Kovarro and Aggo, her two loyalist bloodriders and Qhono. Jon followed to see what was the matter. They came to give a report on the dragons feeding. Since they have to control it, so there wouldn't be a livestock shortage.

**"How many today?**" Daenerys asked.

**"Only twenty-seven goats and fifteen sheep,"** Kovarro answered.

Daenerys paused, estimating how much Drogon was eating, along with Rhaegal and Viserion. It wasn't a lot, usually the amount they eat as a snack and not a meal since Drogon usually eats twice that amount. Something was not right.

"What's the matter?" Jon asked.

"The dragons are barely eating," Daenerys answered.

They took two horses going out of the outskirts where the dragons have taken as their domain.

Ghost had accompanied them, still being cautious when staring at the three dragons. Drogon and

Rhaegal were finishing up his meal, nipping at the scraps left on the bones. Meanwhile, Viserion was curled up asleep. Although he would shiver now and then. The two awake dragons stopped to stare at the humans who approach, recognizing their bonded riders.

"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked.

Drogon leaned forward.

"They don't' like the North," she answered, rubbing Drogon's snout.

Rhaegal came closer, startling Jon then hesitantly petted him. Rhaegal amber eyes widen with glee. Jon could sense the strong pull towards the green dragon. The same feeling, he felt, when reunited with Ghost at Craster's Keep. Speaking of which, the white Direwolf growled at Rhaegal. The green dragon pulled his head back, tilting slightly as he stared at the massive wolf. A new specimen that wasn't a dog. Curious, Rhaegal leans forward to sniff it, wanting to see if it was friend or dinner. When smelling his rider's scent on Ghost, Rhaegal knew not to kill the furry creature. Ghost tilted his head and looked at Jon, who shared the surprised expression.

Daenerys chuckled, thinking Rhaegal liked Ghost and climbed her way up onto Drogon, "Go on."

"I don't know how to ride a dragon," Jon said, staring at Rhaegal, who stared back.

"Nobody does. Until they ride a dragon," Daenerys replied playfully.

Jon examined Rhaegal, "What if he doesn't want me to?"

"Then I've enjoyed your company, Jon Snow," she replied almost seriously.

_You're joking,_ Jon thought. His only experience with the dragons other than the encounter on Dragonstone was being carried by Viserion. And riding in a dragon's claw was not comfortable, especially the landing.

Seeing that she wasn't. He scoffed and tried to get on Rhaegal. It was a struggle at first. Not like riding a saddled horse. Hell, he rode a horse bareback, and still, this was a struggle to get on. As Rhaegal muscles moved, the texture of his scaly skin, and grasping onto small spikes. He almost lost his balance slouching over the green dragon. Mimicking Daenerys' position, he noticed that Rhaegal didn't have the same quills as Drogon.

"What do I hold onto?" Jon asked.

"Whatever you can," she playfully answered. "Although, you need to say _valahd_."

Jon glared at her. As he found two spikes. Once he grabbed them, he said the words, "_Valahd_."

Rhaegal gave a chitter, flapping his wings, and took to the air without warning. Jon held on tight, his thighs pressing deep into the dragons hide as he flew into the sky for the second time. This surprised Jon, seeing the world from a whole new perspective. Daenerys smiled as she rubbed Drogon's back, gesturing him to follow. It wasn't long till Daenerys and Drogon caught up, leading the way, as she tried to show him some instruction. They flew over Winterfell, thus surprising everyone.

Varys, Ser Davos, and Tyrion paused what they were doing on the wall and watched the two dragons fly over. For a moment, they thought they saw Jon. Alysanne and Jorah, who had climbed up the wall to examine the perimeter saw this as well. Seeing Jon on the dragon, this only increased their theory that Jon is indeed Rhaegar's son. Since only those with Dragon's blood from the dragon lords can comfortably ride a dragon. Alysanne turned to Jorah, who merely nodded, seeing her concern.

Meanwhile, back to the dragons, they soar across the Wolfswood, before reaching the county sides of the mountains and ravines. Ignorant on maneuvering Rhaegal, as he tried to ride the dragon like a horse. Rhaegal gave a shriek to get his rider's attention as the connection that Jon could not describe put them in sync. Screaming at the top of his lungs, from the adrenaline as they glided down and corrected over the frozen river. He soon got Rhaegal to catch up with Daenerys, who lead the way. Realizing where they were, he gestures Rhaegal in a different direction towards a familiar spot. Daenerys noticed this and followed. They soon landed.

"You've completely ruined horses for me," Jon accused, still baffled in what happened.

Daenerys smiled along with a laugh.

They soon reach their destination of a waterfall. The sight was beautiful, seeing the water flow down while being surrounded by ice and snow. The rare beauties of Winter.

"We could stay a thousand years . . . no one would find us," Daenerys said.

Jon paused, for what he said brought back memories of Ygritte. How she pleaded they stay in the cave, forgetting about Mance Rayder and the Night's Watch. Shaking his head from that memory, he sighed.

"We'd be pretty old," Jon said.

Daenerys smiled, giving a chuckle as she came over to him.

"It's cold up here for a southern girl," he added.

"So, keep the princess warm," she challenged playfully.

The two embraced each other and began to kiss. They've stolen a few kisses back on the Balerion, making sure the others did not find them. The last thing Jon needed is sabotaging the alliance because of the older sister. Although, he was glad Daenerys has allowed to take things slow. Not rushing it, especially with a battle ahead. Their lips continued to mold around one another, yet there was a sense of being watched. Jon opened his eyes, seeing the dragons were watching. More prominently, Drogon was glaring at him. One could describe a father glaring at potential suitors. They pulled back when Drogon made a growl.

Jon was hesitant, yet Daenerys smiled amused.

"Don't be afraid." She assured him as she grabbed the collar of his cloak, bringing him down for another kiss.

Jon complied, kissing her back, savoring those sweet lips. Yet he opens his eyes, still seeing Drogon glaring at him. Giving him a deadly warning.

**.o0o.**

_Meanwhile…_

Viserion is woken up from his nap, seeing that his brothers were absent. Instead, his eyes were locked with two small beady red eyes. Ghost who remained where he was sat there staring at Viserion. The Golden Dragon paused, tilting his head and looked around, seeing there was no one else. No one and he sensed no threat from the direwolf.

Ghost tilted his head again, wondering what the dragon will do.

Viserion adjusted his arm, revealing a half-eaten goat. He yanked at one leg, pulling it apart before giving the smaller piece to Ghost. The white wolf gave a bark, diving into the partially cooked meat. Viserion merely nodded, nibbling as well, mainly because he was bored.

**.o0o.**

_Evening._

_Sansa's POV_

Sansa was reading a raven scroll from one of the houses. She was not pleased with the message that was written. She was crossed in the situation at hand, having the Dragon Sisters here in Winterfell. Although the Dragon Sisters brought their armies, allies, and provisions, the stain their brother and father left still lingers. An open wound. All-day, she watches and prepares the city, especially going over the numbers of people who are going to be evacuated soon to White Harbor. There were too many people here in Winterfell, a risk she was not willing to take if her people are condensing into one location and possibly die.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Sansa said.

Jon entered the room, coming to collect her for dinner. Although he stopped when seeing Sansa holding a raven scroll.

"Lord Glover wishes us good fortune, but he's staying in Deepwood Motte with his men," Sansa told him.

This made Jon pissed reciting what the Lord promised several months ago, "'House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years.' Isn't that what he said?"

"'I will stand behind Jon Snow,' he said," Sansa corrected, standing up. "The King in the North."

"I told you we need allies," Jon reminded.

"You didn't tell me you were going to abandon your crown," Sansa snapped.

"I didn't abandon my crown," he reminded, walking over to her. "I never wanted a crown. All I wanted was to protect the North. I brought two armies' home with me, three dragons—"

"And a Targaryen Queen," Sansa countered.

"Do you think we can beat the Army of the Dead without her?" he asked. "I fought them, Sansa. Twice. You want to worry about who holds what tittle; I'm telling you it doesn't matter. Without the Dragon Sisters, we don't stand a chance."

Sansa looked at him, surprised, and he took a deep breath.

"I know, Alysanne and I didn't sign a contract of the truce…" he paused then sighed. "Do you have any faith in me at all?"

"You know I do," Sansa said.

He stepped closer. "Queen Alysanne does not want the North. She is giving us the North and putting trust in me to lead it. She means good faith between our two houses. For all of us. She's not her father."

Sadly, Sansa has a hard time believing that. Their father had a part in Robert's Rebellion. A part of her believes this was a ploy to distract them before turning their armies on us. She honestly doesn't want to believe that the Mad King's daughters truly wanted to help them. Not after what the Mad King did to her grandfather and uncle. Two men she will never meet. Or what Rhaegar did to her aunt. How he kidnapped and raped her. Three members of House Stark dead within a year.

Also, she noticed the way Princess Daenerys stares at Jon. Was there a potential of a political marriage? Will Queen Alysanne have Jon and Daenerys wed, which will keep the Targaryen control over the North? She wishes Jon hold interest to a Northern girl, hell even a Wilding if it keeps the North free from Southern Control.

Sansa sighed, "No, but they're much prettier."

Jon scoffed softly.

"Did you forge an alliance to save the North or because you love Daenerys?" she then asked.

Jon gave her a cautious look, "It's time for dinner."

Sansa thought so.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

By evening, my suspicions about Jon is coming true. He looks like Rhaegar, siring Lyanna Stark's colors. Then Rhaegal approaching him back in Dragonstone. Now Rhaegal has allowed King Snow to ride him. Jorah keeps reminding me that even if Jon was Rhaegal's son, then he is most likely a bastard since my brother was married to Elia Martell. Still doesn't stop the fact he is my nephew. Once more, damn you, Rhaegar.

Throughout supper, I keep staring at King Snow now and then. Still trying to find any reason why he couldn't be my nephew. The only thing that wasn't Targaryen about him was his dark hair and eyes. Then again, when King Aegon V married Black Bertha, and sired Prince Duncan, who had dark hair. I swear, I wish genetics make it so simple. After dinner, I went for a walk needing to clear my head.

Jorah came over, "You alright?"

"Just overwhelmed," I confessed. "The culture shock and planning a war."

Jorah nodded, "There is someone I want you to meet."

"Is it your cousin?" I asked.

Jorah shook his head. He has been avoiding Lady Lyanna Mormont since arriving here. I know he wronged his family. But in order to move forward, you need to look into the past. That is what I did after Viserys. In Qarth, Jorah helped me realize I needed help and to start trusting others. A part of me will always resent Viserys, but I forgave my brother.

"Then, who?" I asked again.

"The apprentice who helped save my life. I've got a word, he is here in Winterfell," he answered.

I smiled softly, "I would like to meet this man."

Jorah nodded with a smile, leading the way towards the library. The library was dimmed, the only source of light being from the fireplace and a few lit candles. It appeared to be vacant, until spotting a man behind a bookshelf reading. A rounded man, yet, he seems more interested in the contents of the book to notice our presence.

I cleared my throat, getting his attention.

The man looked up, pausing for a moment until realizing who was here. He stumbled as he shouted, "OH!" and stood up, correcting himself.

"So, you're the man?" I asked.

"Um . . . which man am I, Your Grace?" the young man replied utterly confused.

"The one who saved Ser Jorah when no one else could," I said.

"They could, they just wouldn't," Jorah clarified.

This caught my attention, "It seems I have to make some changes at the Citadel then. A great service merits a great reward. May I have your name, kind ser?"

"Oh, it's Samwell. It's my honor to serve you, Your Grace." Samwell said.

"Still, there must be something I can reward you with?" I offered.

Samwell paused, thinking about it, "If it's not too much trouble, I could use a pardon."

"For what crime?" I asked, confused. He doesn't appear to be a murderer or a rapist.

"Um – I borrowed a few books from the Citadel," Samwell explained.

Jorah chuckled slightly when hearing this. I smiled, holding back my mirth of this man's pure innocence.

"And also, a sword," Samwell added.

This caught me off guard, for I've been told the Citadel only contains books and scrolls.

"A sword at the Citadel?" I asked baffled.

"From my family," Samwell clarified. "It's been in House Tarly for generations. It would've been mine anyway, eventually, but my father had other ideas."

I had a sickening feeling in my stomach. Staring at Samwell, seeing an abused child the way he spoke about his father.

"Not Randyll Tarly?" I asked.

"You know him?" Samwell replied, baffled.

Jorah paused, looking at me. Aware of my situation with House Tarly.

"I offered to let him retain his lands and titles if he bent the knee. He refused; therefore, he was my prisoner until Lord Willas decides his fate. The Warden of the Reach has considered to let Lord Tarly serve me against the Army of the Dead. He's making his way here as we speak." I explained.

Samwell tensed upon hearing this, gulping some air, "Well… at least my brother is home safe."

I stared into his eyes, "Your brother is here in Winterfell as a secured hostage, to ensure your father does fight."

Samwell inhales sharply as his bottom lip quiver. The man who abused him is marching North as we speak to fight for the living. I may not know what has transpired, but I could see Lord Randyll Tarly obliterated his son's sense of worth. There is a high chance all three men will die on the battlefield and thus ending House Tarly's legacy. If I have known about this, I would have sent Dickon back to Hornhill, ensuring the bloodline continues.

"Hm. Thank you, Your Grace," Samwell managed to say. "For telling me. And m—may I?"

"Of course," I assured him.

He took the opportunity to leave as fast as he could. I turned to Jorah on the situation.

"Did I put a family in danger?" I whispered.

"They've made their choice," Jorah replied back softly. "It's one confrontation we cannot resolve."

I nodded, still having a gut feeling this reunion will end with pleasantry.

**.o0o.**

_Winterfell_

Samwell rushed out of the library, trying not to bump into anyone, yet his emotions were everywhere. He feared to confront his father, knowing he took Heartsbane. He feared to see Dickon again since his younger brother favors their father. So many emotions were stirring that his sight was nearly blind with tears. Once outside, the cold hair helped sober him up, wiping them away.

The courtyard was still active as the men started settling for the night.

There across the courtyard was Bran. He sat there in his wheelchair, looking at him. Sam went over to see if he needed something.

"What are you doing out here?" Samwell asked.

"Waiting, for an old friend," Bran answered. "It's time to tell Jon the truth."

Samwell shook his head, "No, no. You're his brother. Shouldn't you tell him?"

"I'm not his brother," Bran explained. "He trusts you more than anyone. Now's the time."

Samwell took a deep breath.

**.o0o.**

_Meanwhile…._

Jon was down in the Crypt, lighting the candles for the deceased. More specifically for his father's family. He needed some guidance from his father, seeing how far the city has become in preparation for this war. The tension growing ever so high, not just the army of the dead, but the foreign army, both Unsullied and Dothraki being mistreated of the Northerner's arrogance. He tried his best to ensure everyone that the Dragon Sisters mean no harm, that he was still their King, yet the Northerners fear the Targaryens will change their mind in a second.

This morning, he was quite impressed by Alysanne, discussing the flaws in his original plan and seeing two elite War experts come up with a plan that could save Winterfell. Let alone his first time officially riding a dragon. He couldn't explain it, but when Rhaegal came over to him, it was like the dragon was asking him to go riding.

Anyway, he came over to Ned's Stark statue and began to light a candle for the honorable man.

There was so much left unsaid. A promise his father could not keep.

_"Is my mother alive? Does she know about me? Where I am, where I'm going? Does she care?" Jon asked Ned for the last time._

_"The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. Hmm? I promise," Ned promised him._

Sadly, Ned Stark wasn't able to fulfill his promise.

Jon sighed.

The sound of somebody falling caught his attention. He went to investigate to find Samwell on the ground trying to stand up.

"Sam," Jon greeted.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be down here," Samwell said.

It was a blessing for Jon to have Samwell here. He did not expect his best friend to be here -either. For them, though, Samwell was safe down south back at the Citadel. He came over, giving his best friend a hug. With the tension with his family, of Bran being distant, Arya acting strange, and Sansa being stubborn, a friend is in order.

"Were you hiding from me?" Jon asked.

"Of course not," Samwell answered.

"What are you doing in Winterfell?" Jon asked. "Or did you read every book in the Citadel already?"

Jon smiled at his joke, but stop to see that Samwell was not laughing. Something was wrong since he could tell his friend was crying. His thought went to Samwell's self-made family.

"What's wrong? Gilly? Is she all right?"

"She's good," Samwell assured, sniffing some.

"Little Sam?"

Samwell nodded, "Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Alysanne . . . She is holding Dickon hostage. They were her prisoners."

Jon took a deep breath, aware of the situation with House Tarly. He genuinely thought Samwell would be in Oldtown, and the three men would never cross paths.

"I'm so sorry." Jon apologized. "She had a choice, execution or prisoners. You can't hold it against her. We need to end this war."

Samwell paused, taking Jon's words, understanding he had a point. Alysanne had spared his brother and father. The same as Jon sparing thousands of wildlings when they refused to kneel. He took a deep breath, knowing why he came down here in the first place.

"What brings you down here," Jon asked, changing the subject.

"I've got some news…" Samwell answered hesitantly.

"Will it help with this war?" Jon asked.

"Uh…not exactly," Samwell answered. "But it's something you should know. You are more than just the King in the North. You are the King of the bloody Seven Kingdoms."

Jon stopped looking at his friend, not understanding what he meant.

Samwell took a deep breath, "Bran and I worked it out. Gilly found a High Septon's diary. Bran had…whatever Bran has."

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked.

Samwell took a deep breath, "Your mother . . . was Lyanna Stark."

Jon exhales sharply, staring sharply at Samwell. All his life, he grew up believing he was a bastard. He has heard many rumors of who his mother could be, from a bar wench, a prostitute, and a wet nurse. He spent years being called Ned Stark's Bastard. The man put his reputation on the line to raise Jon as his own. To be raised in a noble family, instead of on the streets or in an orphanage, assuming his mother died in the war. Since Ned wouldn't dare take a baby from his mother. So, to hear that the man he has been calling father isn't his father by blood angered him. Also, the fact that his mother was Lyanna Stark. The woman he believed to be his aunt. The woman who was kidnapped, raped, and tortured. The thought of his true biological father stirred him profoundly.

"And your father… your real father was Rhaegar Targaryen." Samwell continued. "You've never been a bastard. You're Aenar Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne. I'm sorry, I know it's a lot to take in."

Jon walked over to Samwell.

"My father was the most honorable man I ever met," Jon whispered harshly.

Samwell nodded.

"You're saying he lied to me all my life." Jon accused.

"No," Samwell assured. "Your father—well, Ned Stark. He promised your mother he'd always protect you. And he did. Robert would have murdered you if he knew. You're the true King. Aenar Targaryen, First of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all of it."

Jon stepped back; his breathing shaken by this information.

After a moment, he turned around, staring at his mother statue.

He was a Targaryen.

* * *

**Hey guys, so I need your help really bad. I am stuck on choosing the fate of one character, the end result is the same, but I seriously don't know if this one character should live or die. So, I genuinely need your help.**

**Should Lyanna Mormont live or die?**

**Please leave your answer in the reviews.**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	81. Chapter 81: A One Lion Army

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 81: A One Lion Army**

Up in the towers of Winterfell, Quaithe sat in her room, staring out the window that had a view of the courtyard. She stared out watching Bran Stark starring off into the gate. The young man was sitting out in the cold, waiting for someone. The Shadowbinder knew that the cripple boy is no longer a mere mortal. Just like her and her companion, they have touched magic, and a part of their mortal soul is no longer there. While Quaithe, a Shadowbinder, delves into the deviant magic of Asshai, she could sense deep and ancient magic coming off of Bran. The deeper she looked into the boy's possible future; she saw a raven with three eyes.

"I have brought fire and ice together," the second Shadowbinder said, after getting dressed.

Quaithe turned her attention to the other female being none other than Melisandre. Quaithe is not part of the R'hllor religion. Quaithe doesn't stare into the fires to see what the Lord of Light has brought in messages. Many people mistaken that, since Quaithe would glance into the flames to help her concentrate a much-secured future. She was of her own free will, yet many Asshai people had converted to the R'hllor faith or forced to do so. So, the accessories in jewelry continue in fashion. But a true Asshai'i will cover their faces.

"You have brought the North and the Targaryen's together, but not the prophecy," Quaithe replied.

Melisandre paused, looking at the mysterious woman, "I do not understand."

"Ice and Fire will always come together, but never once. It joined over two decades ago, and once more fire and ice will join again." Quaithe explains in her riddles.

Melisandre came over to her. "Is Jon Snow not the Ice and Alysanne Targaryen the Fire."

Quaithe stared at Melisandre's vibrant blue eyes lost in her visions. I see the truth that is to come.

"Alysanne is the Womb of Fire, but Jon Snow is not the Seed of Ice." Quaithe replied.

"Then, what is he?" Melisandre asked, now curious.

Quaithe tilted her head, "Your god should have told you the answer."

She turned her attention to the window, watching Bran. Quaithe knew there is a balance. That on occasion, opposites shall attract and produce stronger beings. What Quaithe saw in Qarth at Xaro Xhaon Daxos party. She saw Ice and Fire, and a future that will change a nation from them along with their descendants. One that will last a dynasty. But she never told Alysanne about this, sensing the young Queen already has spiritual guidance. However, what she saw that would lead to that dynasty was pain and devastation. She knew that there would be two deaths the Dragon Queen shall encounter. Two deaths that could potentially change the fate of greatness into insanity…depending on the Seed of Ice rescuing her.

Just then, a lone rider on a horse came into the courtyard. The Shadowbinder sensed a rift as the rider removed the hood of his cloak, rubbing his face only to stop when seeing Bran Stark. Melisandre, who has secured her hair and put on a mask, came over to witness this.

"Ser Jaime Lannister," Melisandre murmured. "A lone soldier."

Quaithe nodded.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I was breaking fast with my council when Jon Snow came in announcing Ser Jaime Lannister was here. There were many mixes of emotions. I glanced at Ser Jaime Lannister at the dragon pits, but was more focused on forging the armistice with Cersei and alliance against the Army of the Dead. Now, hearing that Ser Jaime was here brought mix emotions. Before me stood the man who murdered my father.

Yes, Tyrion told me why his brother murdered Aerys the Second. My father, in his madness, would have unleashed wildfire upon the city during Tywin Lannister's siege. Yet, the truth was revealed to me later in life after I spent twenty years thinking his own Kingsguard betrayed my father. With mixed emotions, I nodded to King Snow when he says there shall be an assembly in the Great Hall.

"Did he come with an army?" Ser Barristan asked.

"I am not sure, Ser Barristan," King Snow answered. "Only he came by himself."

I scowled when hearing this. Then again, if he came with an army, then our scouts would have noticed this and reported. Neither Ser Garlan mentioning any encounters from the Westerlands or the Crownlands.

"Your grace," Tyrion started.

I waved my hand silencing him, for I did not want to hear it. Many emotions were stirring from this. There are two sides of the same coin. Tyrion was not there when it happened. The witnesses of that terrible event were all slaughtered except for Ser Jaime. I took into consideration that Tyrion told me what happened during the sacking to prevent me from doing something drastic.

With nothing else to say, we headed into the Small Hall, where the Lords and Ladies assembled. The Starks, Daenerys, and I took the front table as Jon, and I sat in the center. Standing center was none other than the Kingslayer. He no longer took the appearance from what I've been told of Ser Jaime. Nor what I remember as a child. His hair was no longer gold or long but short and brown. A beard was covering his face with a few snippets of silver. The only thing that screamed Lannister were his green eyes. Otherwise, he dressed like a wandering warrior, with a golden hand: not a Kingsguard or a knight.

"When we were children, Viserys would tell us a bedtime story . . . about the man who murdered our father," I began. "Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor? As he sat there, allowing the Mountain to butcher Princess Elia Martell and her children. As he watches their blood drench the Lannister banners along with our father's blood. Viserys told us other stories as well. About all the things we would do to that man. Once, we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp. Having both the man and his father."

Ser Jaime eyes water as if he was reliving the memory once more. I gripped the pommels of the chair, tasting venom on my tongue. A mere mortal who sinned that has me conflicted based on his little brother's defense. Daenerys was glaring at the man. Despite knowing the truth, it was Ser Jaime who killed our father in the most dishonorable way. Our father was an anointed King, by the laws of the Seven, only in combat could a King be killed.

Changing the subject, I continued, "Your sister promised to send her army north."

"She did," Ser Jaime replied.

"I don't see an army," Daenerys said. "I see one man with one hand."

"It appears your sister lied to us," I added.

Tyrion glanced at Ser Jaime, who nodded disappointedly.

"She lied to me as well," Ser Jaime replied. "She never had any intention of sending her army north. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and twenty-thousand fresh troops. The Golden Company from Essos bought and paid for. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to destroy the survivors."

"'We'?" Daenerys asked, baffled.

"I promised to fight for the living," Ser Jaime explained. "I intend to keep that promise."

Tyrion stepped forward, "Your Grace, I know my brother –"

"Like you knew your sister," I seethed.

Tyrion shook his head, "He came here alone, knowing full well how he'd be received. Why would he do that if he weren't telling the truth?"

"Perhaps he trusts his little brother to defend him, right up to the moment he slits our throats," Daenerys suggested bitterly.

"You're right. We can't trust him." Lady Sansa spoke up. "He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours."

"Do you want me to apologize?" Ser Jaime snapped. "I won't. We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again."

"The things we do for love," Brandon Stark said from the edge of the table.

This caught Ser Jaime off guard.

"So why have you abandoned your house and family now?" Daenerys asked.

"Because this goes beyond loyalty," Ser Jaime answered, looking over his shoulder, glancing at the Northern council. Precisely to a woman, Lady Brienne of Tarth, if I'm not mistaken. "This is about survival."

Lady Brienne stood up as she walked over to stand next to Ser Jaime.

"You don't know me well, Your Grace. But I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor. I was his captor once. But when we were both taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it." She then turned her attention to Lady Sansa. "Without him, my lady, you would not be alive. He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home because he'd sworn an oath to your mother."

Sansa was baffled by this announcement. Learning what Ser Jaime has done for Lady Brienne and myself. She bobbed her head thinking about the decision.

"You vouch for him?" Lady Sansa asked.

"I do," Lady Brienne answered firmly.

"You would fight beside him?"

Lady Brienne paused, "I would."

Lady Sansa nodded, "I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay."

Lady Brienne nodded, returning to her seat.

"Since this is not my Kingdom, the decision shall go to King Snow," I announced, for I was emotionally compromised right now.

All eyes turned to the King in the North.

King Snow paused, comprehending the confession and promises Ser Jaime, Lord Tyrion, and Lady Brienne had made. He glances at Sansa to get her final confirmation, which she nodded in return.

"We need every man we can get," King Snow decided.

"Then so be it," I agreed sternly.

Ser Jaime sighed in relief.

I glanced at Ser Barristan, who nodded, taking the sword from Grey Worm and giving it to the dishonorable knight. Ser Barristan gave his once brother a sharp look, before returning to the side, standing next to Ser Jorah.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Ser Jaime said.

King Snow stood up, dismissing the gathering. I stood up as well, with Daenerys. I started walking, though notice Daenerys tried to reach out to King Snow, except he continues to walk away. Shaking my head, I continue to walk, feeling so much anger. I don't know where this anger was coming from. I thought I came to terms when Tyrion told me what happened in the Throne Room. However, seeing Ser Jaime…all my emotions were spiraling out of control, let alone adding more fuel to the fire after learning of Cersei's deception. I knew she would never send her army. She was like the Masters, spiteful, and proud to relinquish their claim on power.

My council followed me through the halls.

Tyrion was practically running, trying to reach up.

"Either you knew Cersei was lying and let me believe otherwise, or you didn't know at all," I lectured. "Which makes you either a traitor or a fool."

"I was a fool," Tyrion agreed.

"Not for the first time," I growled. "The Masters should have taught you that."

Daenerys stopped turning to face Tyrion, "Cersei still sits on the throne. If you can't help us take it back, we'll find another Hand who can."

"Daenerys," I warned.

Daenerys gave me a hard look, although she was right. I had given Tyrion a second chance after the Masters. Let alone Tyrion proclaiming he knew his sister. In the end, Cersei is a spiteful woman who would rather let the Army of the Dead slaughter all of Westeros than lend aid to save it. Something I will take into account once the Long Night is over.

With nothing else to say, I walked away, needing to clear my head. I can't look Tyrion in the eye right now.

.o0o.

The following day the frustration and anger continue to boil. I managed to maintain it throughout yesterday, separating my emotions from the work at hand. Let alone having Jorah and Ser Barristan being by my side, including Missandei. Missandei's empathy brought soothing words to calm my senses as I talked with the war generals. Any day now, Lord Tarly will be here, so I need to keep a clear head.

However, I was still struggling. At night I am alone. Daenerys and Missandei were next door, but their company is not what I needed. So desperately, I wanted to get up and walk over to Jorah's room. Sadly, doing so would lead to suspicions even though I do not care what others think about me partaking in premarital activities or my love life. But alas, Jorah wants to keep my reputation, even if meant not being alone with him. All I wanted was to talk.

It wasn't until Ser Barristan came over to me holding the tourney swords.

"I believe we should practice," Ser Barristan recommended.

I gave him a small smile appreciating it.

We armored up before heading to the training grounds. There were a few members there along with Lady Brienne. The recruits stopped, not sure what to do. Lady Brienne was confused until she turned around facing us. Immediately she gave a bow instead of a curtsey. Then again, she wasn't wearing a dress to give a proper curtsey. It pleases me to see another female warrior. Other than the gladiators in Meereen, I've never actually met a woman who can wield a sword.

"Your Grace," she greeted.

"Lady Brienne," I replied

Lady Brienne was about to say something but stopped herself. "How can I help you, Your Grace."

"If you don't mind sharing the training grounds," I suggested. "Ser Barristan and I would like to practice."

This surprised the tall woman, yet she gave a small smile and nodded. Afterward, she went back to the recruits while Ser Barristan and I found a spot to practice. Securing our helms, we got into position, and Ser Barristan went for the attack. In the beginning, Ser Barristan would go easy on me to teach the defenses and point out the mistakes. However, as the years went on, I was getting better in my skill. Therefore, instead of training, we were sparring, dueling one another. He still had the upper hand, but I managed to disarm him.

We panted, looking at each other as my sword aimed at his throat. Ser Barristan nodded in approval. When we pulled back, many of the Northernmen were watching us. All were glaring at us. Amongst the crowd was Lady Lyanna. She stared at me with a scowl. I sighed, for I wish I could prove them I am not my father.

"We should head inside," Ser Barristan advised.

I nodded, sheathing the tourney sword, and made our way inside. Ser Barristan followed, though, in the midst of our walk, we noticed Ser Jaime talking to Lady Brienne. They were in a heated discussion before pulling away. Taking a deep breath, I stared at Ser Barristan.

"I want to talk to him," I announced.

"Are you sure, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Yes," I confirmed.

Ser Barristan nodded.

We made our way over to Ser Jaime, who was baffled when seeing us.

"A word, in private," I said, before heading back into the castle.

Ser Barristan made sure Ser Jaime followed as we returned to the castle. We found a vacant room and Ser Barristan confiscated Ser Jaime Sword as a precaution. The Kingslayer stood there staring at me with caution and guilt. My childhood memories of him may be gone, but I knew he was in my father's Kingsguard.

"What? Going to execute me behind closed doors," Ser Jaime taunt. "Just like your father."

"Mind your tongue," Ser Barristan warned.

"What? As if she took pleasure in incest just like the rest of them," Ser Jaime continued.

I scowled, "I didn't know rape was consider pleasure?"

Ser Jaime stopped himself.

"Yes, I was raped by Viserys and forced to be his sister-wife," I told him. "It was his courteously, after ruining me. But don't scold me about incest, after you partake in your sister's flesh."

Ser Jaime took a deep breath holding back his tongue.

"Back in the Bay of Dragons, your brother told me what happen in the Throne room during the siege. How deep King Aerys's madness was. But I want to hear it from the horse's mouth. So, tell me, what truly happen on that fateful day?"

Ser Jaime paused as he took a deep breath, "Are you sure?"

I nodded staring deep into his green eyes.

Ser Jaime sighed, and began, "The Mad King was obsessed with Wildfire. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn't like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere, so he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city, beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first, with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the King didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to Varys, who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that gray, sunken cunt. 'You can trust the Lannister,' he said. 'The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown.' So, we opened the gates, and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the King, begging him to surrender."

Ser Barristan tensed inhaling sharply when hearing this.

"He told me to bring him my father's head. Then he turned to his pyromancer. 'Burn them all,' he said. 'Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.' Tell me, will you command your sword shield to kill his own father, and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then? First, I killed the pyromancer. And then, when the King turned to flee, I…I drove my sword into his back. 'Burn them all,' he kept saying. 'Burn them all.' I don't think he expected to die. He…he meant to burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen."

A flash of a vision crossed my view, seeing my father sitting on the Iron Throne bellowing the command. As a young Ser Jaime came up the step sword ready after executing the pyromancer. There, I finally saw the truth.

"That is the truth," Ser Jaime said. "I did what I thought was best…"

I remained silent.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.

I sighed, "Thank you for telling me the truth."

This dumbfounded Ser Jaime, "You're not going to kill me?"

"You've already placed your service in the cause for this war." I replied.

With nothing else to say, I left the room needing to be alone to comprehend what the lone lion said.

**.o0o.**

I stood in my chambers, watching the fire comprehending what Ser Jaime said — grasping his words about what happened. His perspective the moment the Sacking of King's Landing had occurred all those many years ago. Tyrion was right, relaying the message in his wording. But hearing it from the horse's mouth solidifies confirmation. Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Varys, Tyrion all said my father was Mad. To the extent of killing innocent people with wildfire. A part of me had hoped that my father wouldn't have ever considered destroying King's Landing just like that.

But alas, it was childish thoughts.

_'I, too, thought the same with my son,'_ Visenya said. "_I too thought my son enjoyed battle since I taught him how to use a sword. In the end, he craved violence. He would choose violence over reason.'_

I sighed, bowing my head, "a part of me had hope there was some humanity in my father."

_"There was, but the responsibility was thrust onto him at a young age. He was forced into marriage. The majority of his family perished in the fire. His father died three years later. The countless miscarriages and another Blackfyre rebellion. Along with spies and traitors, it was too much. Not all madness's are born; they are made. In the beginning, we were strong in numbers; over time, we grew smaller and weaker."_

She had a point, as I knelt in front of the fireplace where the dragon eggs were being kept. A hopeless cause for there was no life in them. There was no magic left for these petrified eggs because the dragons grew small and remained nothing more than a memory.

_'There is a chance to fix our population, but it will take time,"_ Visenya murmured. '_And a good companion._

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Alysanne," Jorah's voice spoke on the other side.

"Come in," I said as I stood up, wiping the soot off my knees.

He entered the room, still in armor and furs. He stood there, glancing at me and the eggs before staring into my eyes.

"Forgive me, Alysanne," he said.

"Have you done something to offend me?" I asked.

"Many things," he answered.

I smiled softly, "Long ago and long forgiven."

"But you did forgive, despite my failures," he reminded, then looked down. "When I heard you'd named Tyrion your Hand, it broke my heart."

I sighed as I came over to him, "When I named him Hand, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

And being my Hand would prevent us from being together, I thought.

Jorah took my hand, "You made the right choice."

I raised a brow, "I wasn't under the impression you liked him very much."

"I didn't," he said. "His mouth hardly stopped moving between Volantis and Meereen. It was all I could do not to throw him in the sea."

We chuckled at the thought.

"But the mind behind all those words . . ." he was implying too.

I took my hands away, walking back into the fire. "He's made mistakes."

"As have we all," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He owns his and learns from them."

I stared into his eyes, "You're advising me to forgive the man who exiled you."

"I am," he nodded.

"How can I trust him when he should have learned from his mistake in Meereen?" I asked. "When it's towards one person, it's one thing. But when it comes to thousands of people. He thought he knew his sister; even I saw it in the Dragon Pits, she wouldn't help us."

"And yet you allowed it," he reminded.

"Because my council and King Snow believed her," I countered. "Tell me, if your sibling is supposed to be your enemy, would you still fight against them?"

Jorah contemplated knowing I have a point there.

"I will take your suggestion into consideration, but I can't promise you," I told him.

Tyrion said Cersei has something worth fighting for, and what Ser Jaime has presented was nothing more than a farce.

Jorah nodded as he cradles my cheek. I sighed; I've been missing his touch since arriving at Winterfell. Our amount of touch is scarce. He leaned down, pressing his lips against my own. It was a soft and gentle kiss. One for comfort, like his beard, scrapes along my chin. I sighed once more, wanting more, but this was all I could get behind closed doors. It was a moment, as Jorah pulled away.

"That's all I ask," he murmured. "And one other suggestion, if you allow me."

"Should I be afraid," I teased.

He snorted, shaking his head. "I think it's best to talk to Lady Sansa. Explain to her that you hold interest with the North."

I nodded, since arriving to the North Lady Sansa has shown some…hostility towards Daenerys and I. I know I can't undo what Rhaegar and the Mad King has done to House Stark. All I can do is make this truce, giving the North's its independence. King Snow proved himself worthy to lead the North. And based of Lord Tyrion and Varys reports on Lady Sansa, I know the largest kingdom is in good hands.

**.o0o.**

I made way to the library where I found Lady Sansa going over papers with Lord Royce. No doubt going over the number before the evacuations.

"The moment we can get the last infantryman out onto the field, we should shut the gates." Lord Royce advised.

"Keep them open for as long as you can," Sansa instructed. "There are still people coming from the countryside. We want all the women and children to travel together to White Harbor."

She handed the scroll to Lord Royce. Then heard footsteps and looked over to see me enter. Being polite, both stood up. It was Lord Royce who gave a half bow while Sansa stood there, keeping her hands behind her back, almost standing at attention.

"Lady Sansa, I was hoping we could speak alone," I requested kindly.

Lord Royce gave Sansa a silent question if he wanted her to leave or stay. The Red Wolf nodded, dismissing him. The member of the Vales nodded, as he walked over. He once more stopped in front of me, giving another bow before leaving the two of us alone in private. Once we were alone, I made her way over with a smile.

"I thought you and I were on the verge of the agreement before, about Ser Jaime," I tested.

"Brienne has been loyal to me, always," Sansa replied. "I trust her more than anyone."

"I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors," I murmured.

"Tyrion is a good man," Sansa assured. "He was never anything but decent towards me."

"I didn't ask him to be my Hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my Hand because he was good, and intelligent, and ruthless when he had to be. He should never have trusted Cersei."

"You never should have either," Sansa countered.

"Benefit without a doubt," I agreed. "I thought he knew his sister."

Sansa somewhat smile, "Families are complicated."

"Ours certainly have been," I agreed, gesturing we both sat down.

"A sad thing to have in common," Sansa agreed, sitting down.

"We have other things in common," I added. "We've both know what it means to lead people who aren't inclined to accept a woman's rule. And we've both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell."

Sansa smiled slightly, but not a huge smile.

"And yet, I can't help but feel we're at offs with one another," I noted. "Why is that?"

Lady Sansa paused, as she looked down for a second then back up.

"Your brother, I assume," I murmured.

"He loves your sister, you know that." She replied.

"Is that so," I sighed.

"Men do stupid things for women. They're easily manipulated." She explained.

"All my life, I've known one goal: The Iron Throne. Taking it back from the people who destroyed my family, and almost destroyed yours. My war is against them. Until I met King Snow. Now I'm here, half a world away, fighting this war alongside him." I said, staring into her vibrant yet hard blue eyes.

Sansa scoffed, though made it seem innocent, "I should have thanked you for the moment you arrived. That was a mistake."

I leaned over slightly, resting my hand over hers. "I'm here because I care for the people… and I trust King Snow . . . and I know he's true to his word. He's only the second man in my life I can say that about."

"Who is the first?" she asked, curious.

"Someone older," I said, with a much serious voice.

Sansa, realizing I have a preference for older men, chuckled. A genuine chuckle, that I couldn't help but join her as well.

"And what happens afterward?" Sansa asked. "We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei. What happens then?"

"I reclaim my home," I answered

Sansa paused, looking into my indigo eyes, "What about the North? It was taken from us, and we took it back. And we said we'd never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?"

"The North will be the North," I answered her. "I apologize for King Snow and I, the lack of interest in the truce the North and House Targaryen. This war has been our center focus. I assure you, once the Army of the Dead has been defeated and we survive, the truce will be in order."

"You truly mean that?"

"I do. If it helps, you can join us in making the contract, putting your opinions in."

"I very much appreciate that."

I nodded, "Jon is lucky to have you as a sister."

Sansa gave a sincere smile.

Suddenly the door burst open as Maester Wolkan entered,

"Apologies, my lady. Your Grace . . ." Maester Wolkan said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The Ironborn are here," Maester Wolkan answered.

_Ironborn?_ I thought.

Theon's rescue mission must had gone according to plan and has rescued Lady Yara from Euron Greyjoy. Although, I recall ordering him to send a raven at White Harbor for further instructions not come here.

Either way, Sansa and I stood up as we follow Maester Wolkan to the Small Hall. There were a dozen Ironborn standing there. At the very front was Theon. He stood there until spotting Lady Sansa. She gasped, but stood beside me. Theon looked between the us, before stepping forward and kneeled.

"My Queen," Theon greeted.

"Your sister?" I asked.

Theon paused and answered, "She only has a few ships, and she couldn't sail them here. So, she's sailing to the Iron Islands instead, to take them back in your name."

"Good, claim territory in case we need to evacuate," I said. "Although, why aren't you with her?"

Theon turned his attention to Sansa. "I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa . . . if you'll have me."

Sansa steady composure vanished as she came over hugging Theon. She was glad to have him back. I smiled softly when seeing this. No doubt a reunion between them.

* * *

**I have an important announcement!**

**Story updates will not be posted on a regular schedule. I am going through my final semester of college and that includes Student Teaching. _Sister's Keeper_ and _Warg Maiden_ will come when I have a chance. Sorry for the long wait.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	82. Chapter 82: Dark Sister

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 82: Dark Sister**

_Alysanne's POV_

Visenya wanted to continue training. However, it was not your typical sword training. No, it was a dragon training. Using magic spirits have, she conjured Viserion's spirit into the realm so we could practice. This was a higher risk, for the Army of the Dead has the advantage in not only numbers but an Ice Dragon. Visenya was serious about the Ice Dragon.

"I've never crossed paths with an ice dragon," Visenya said as she told me while sitting on the dragon throne. "But it never stopped the tales and stories of their destructions."

"Is there a way to stop it?" I asked.

"It depends on the dragon's condition," Visenya replied. "Are you dealing with a dead dragon that has been resurrected by the Night King, or has this dragon been frozen alive for eight thousand years and under a spell?"

"So, if we are dealing with a dead dragon, then the Night King must be stopped…" I thought aloud.

"But if under a spell, then you must stop it," she said, standing up.

"How can I stop a dragon made of ice?" I asked.

"Simple, by using your Valyrian sword." She answered.

I paused and stared at the Targaryen sword secured on my hip. My sword wasn't a broad sword or a long sword. Not even a bastard sword. It was an arming sword, just a few inches longer than a short sword. How in the Seven Hells am I going to kill an ice dragon with an arming sword?

Thus, Visenya had to teach me how to fight while riding on a dragon. Viserion and I needed to be in sync when in flight. Visenya would ride Vhagar, and it was a dance of dragons. Vhagar was a massive dragon, practically the size of the ice dragon, so it helps in comparison. Viserion and I fought them, trying to figure out to get me on the ice dragon and to end it. Especially figuring out a way to find the heart for a human kill. Let alone a specific spell.

Sadly, each fail attempt has me falling to my death and waking up back in the real world.

I groaned, lying in bed, staring at the beams of the ceiling.

"Seven Hells," I growled as I sat up and walked over to the window, seeing that it was still dark.

The adrenaline from the fall was still pumping through my veins. Sleep avoiding me intensely that I can't close my eyes. My veins were pumping burning hot that sleep would be useless. In the end, there was nothing to do. My council was still asleep, and with the Long Night around the corner, I need to let them have much sleep as possible. Needling to clear my head, I got dressed before making my way out my chamber and the Keep. Maybe a flight with Viserion can help.

As I made it to the stable, I got a horse to make my way.

"Where are you going?" a stern female voice asked.

I turned around to see Lady Lyanna standing at the entrance of the stables.

"I'm going for a ride with Viserion," I said. "Why are you up this early, Lady Mormont?"

"I couldn't sleep and saw you in the halls," She said as a matter of fact.

"I see," I replied. "Care to join me for a ride?"

"As in riding a dragon?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered.

She paused, staring at me intensely, "My advisors wouldn't agree."

"And yet your advisors and Maester aren't here," I countered.

Lady Lyanna thought about it before she nodded. So, getting two horses saddled, we made our way to the field where the dragons were. Currently, Rhaegal and Drogon were still asleep; only Viserion was awake. Before we went into the straight flight, I had Lady Lyanna do the bow and greetings to Viserion. The golden dragon paused, leaning forward to smell the she-bear's scent, noticing a similar scent to Jorah, nodded with a bow giving the girl consent. There Lyanna petted Viserion's snout, while Viserion breathed warmed air on her.

The stern girl couldn't hold back a smile that lifted her lips.

I smiled softly, as I helped Lyanna climbed onto Viserion's back. I had her sit in front of me, using a rope to make a makeshift harness that secured Lyanna to me. The last thing I need is the young Lady of Bear Island falling off. Afterward, I secured the original harness to Viserion's saddle.

"_Valahd,"_ I whispered, synchronizing with Viserion as we become one in mind and spirit. The surge of energy filled my veins as Viserion spread his wings, shrieking, taking off to the sky. Lyanna gasped, feeling the weight of her stomach dropping before what sounded like a laugh. It was short, but I could sense that she was enjoying it. It wasn't an elaborate flight, not wanting to frighten the girl. So, we kept the flight neutral.

Viserion continues to fly, as the sunrise was making its way from the east. So many thoughts were going through my head in preparations for war, and yet flying helped clear my mind.

"The world looks so small," Lyanna commented.

"Yes," I said. "It may look small from above, but it is still the same in the end."

Lyanna nodded, "What is that over there?"

Over in the horizon from the South seemed to be a mass. I gestured Viserion to head that way; we were roughly thirty or so miles from Winterfell. Thus, making our way over, we noticed banners in the distance. It wasn't long after getting a better look to see a red archer on a green field.

"It's House Tarly," I noted.

"Finally, they show," Lyanna muttered.

"Couldn't agree more," I said. "We best head back,"

Lyanna nodded as Viserion turned around, making our way back to Winterfell. As we continued on North, I noticed something different. The clouds were becoming condensed like a storm was coming at sea. But it wasn't coming in close.

"Is that normal for the north, those clouds?" I asked Lyanna.

Lyanna scrunched her face, "No. It doesn't."

"Hold on," I told her.

Not risking it, I had Viserion fly faster back to Winterfell. Once we landed, I patted Viserion on the neck, thanking him for the ride before Lyanna and I went back to the Keep. The moment we entered the courtyard we saw a few of the staff were in panic. The moment they saw us, Lyanna's advisors rushed in.

"My lady, where have you been?" the advisor asked.

"I was with Queen Alysanne," Lyanna answered. "She took me flying."

"You rode a dragon?" the advisor replied in shock.

Lyanna nodded with a smirk as she climbed down from her horse. Jorah came over as he helped me down off the horse. I looked up, smiling at him. A part of me wanted to kiss him, but I knew the boundaries he made since coming to Winterfell. Jorah gave the nod with a small smile.

"I need to speak with King Snow," I said.

"Why is that?" Jorah asked.

"We saw the Tarly forces," I explained.

Ser Jorah nodded as we made our way back to the Keep. Just as we walked through the corridor, Jorah pulled us to the side of a nook and kissed me. This caught me by surprise as I took the opportunity to kiss him back. Feeling his scruff scraping along my cheeks while arms wrapped around him. It only lasts a few seconds, but the act itself sedated the desire. Although a small part of me craves more, just us going to one of our chambers and make love. In the end, Jorah panted as he places a peck on my forehead, indicating that was the end of our make out.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For allowing Lyanna to fly," he answered.

"Well, she was up early and thought she might enjoy the sunrise," I said casually. "Although you need to talk to her."

"Has she said anything?" he asked.

"Not really, she is a quiet person unless she needs to speak her mind," I answered.

"That's a Mormont trait indeed," Jorah murmured.

I nodded, knowing that is true.

Anyway, we made it to the small hall to find King Snow and let him know about the Tarly's forces being at most thirty miles from here. But I also reported the density of the clouds coming from the northern parts of the mountains.

"It's like a storm is coming, but no thunder or lightning," I said.

King Snow nodded, "What do you recommend?"

"I suggest we do the evacuation now, the quicker we get the refugees out of Winterfell for White Harbor, the safer they are away from the battle," I said.

"House Umber hasn't returned yet," Jon said.

"House Umber may have to be in the Great Hall because we can't risk the lives of the others for one house," I said. "As much as it pains me to say this."

King Snow thought about it. The choice was his, but if he is wise, then he should start the evacuation to White Harbor effective immediately. After five minutes, King Snow nodded.

"I'll let my council know and get the women and children heading south to White Harbor," King Snow said.

I nodded, Velaryon and Celtigar are waiting there as we speak to take the refugees out of Westeros to the Claw Isles and Driftmark. There are a million people who populate the North. A million lives who are a risk as we speak. So, it was best to evacuate as soon as possible.

With nothing else to say, King Snow excused himself as he left to inform the others. By midday, the refugees were leaving Winterfell, heading South. I gave two thousand of my volunteer soldiers to escort them to White Harbor in case there was an attack. Leaving me with my eight-thousand Unsullied soldiers. As the evacuation was happening, a small company arrived in Winterfell, with Tarly banners. It was Lord Randyll Tarly. King Snow, our council, Dickon, and I waited in the courtyard to greet the new arrival. The only person who was absent was Samwell, which I understand completely.

Lord Randyll Tarly got off his horse and walked over to us. He paused, staring at his youngest son, seeing his condition has been fair.

"Lord Tarly," King Snow greeted.

"Your Grace," Lord Tarly replied to him and turned to me. "Your Grace, I have brought my forces to fight in this war."

"We thank you," I said. "We need all the men we could get."

"Of course," Lord Tarly said.

With nothing else to say, King Snow, lead the way to go over the plans for the battle. Lord Tarly approve of the fortifications, the trenches, and where to put our forces — agreeing to have the Tarly archers on the walls since they are the best archers in the South than any southern kingdom.

As the days passed, it seemed like the Gods were on our side. It wasn't long before the Stormlands knights arrived. A thousand men trained to fight in any condition. Leading the men was Ser Garett Wensington, who has become the Defacto of Lord of the Stormlands since the true Baratheon line diminished. His daughter Elain had secured the alliance when she married Lord Willas. I am indebted to House Wensington in the progress they have made since the War of the Five Kings. Once I reclaim my Birthright, I will ensure that House Wensington is rewarded.

King Snow seemed pleased as well; everything was coming together. Nearly all the Kingdoms who can serve were here. Our forces were rising by the numbers. All we have left is time. The question is…do we have enough?

.**o0o**.

I was lost in thought, staring out to see the final makings of the battlefield when Maester Wolkan came by. He was slightly out of breath as Ser Barristan and I turned around to face him.

"Maester Wolkan," I greeted, showing respect.

"Your Grace, Lord Bran wishes to speak to you in the Godswood," the Maester said.

"When?" I asked.

"Uh, now…" he said.

I nodded as we followed the Maester through the Keep. It wasn't long as we enter through the gates of the Godwoods where the young Lord will be. The Godswoods is a sanctuary, a place of worship for those who believe in the Old Gods. There used to be one on Dragonstone, sadly Stannis Baratheon burned the holy land for the Lord of Light. I've never seen the Godswood. Even during my time, I've been focused on the battle ahead. The moment I entered, there was this sense of mundane. In the temple of the Valyrian Gods, though forgotten held welcome arms. The temple for the Harpies, a sense of awareness. Even though I have not entered a Sept since I was a child, when I pray to the Seven, I felt content. However, in the Godswood, there was a sense of not being welcome.

Here it was a dark, primal place that was three acres of old forest that have not been touch for thousands of years. Probably before the Andals invasion, if not longer. All around, it consisted of sentinels, oaks, ironwood, ash, chestnuts, elms, hawthorn, and soldier pine. The grounds cover in snow. There was a sense of being watched when there is no one there as if the trees are watching your every move, judging you. In the center is a small, dark pool now frozen in ice with a weirwood tree staring down at it. The first time to see a weirwood tree in person. Especially when this ancient weirwood is a heart tree. Its bark white as bone, dark red leaves, and a melancholy face carved in the bark, its deep-cut eyes red with dry sap, like it was crying.

Facing the heart tree was Lord Bran. I gestured Ser Barristan to wait by the tree line as I approach the young man. He sat there, staring at the tree deep in a trance. There was something on his lap, wrapped in furs. Something long. The moment my boots crushed the powder snow, his head shot up and looked at me.

"Queen Alysanne," he said in a monotone voice.

"Lord Brandon," I replied.

"I'm no longer Brandon Stark," He corrected. "I'm something else now."

Something else indeed, Visenya whispered in my ear. The old religion has touched him.

The sound of the ravens cawing filled the air.

"You've been touched by your gods magic as have I," Bran said. "I have seen your endeavors, from birth to this day. A sad, tragic life, until your brother-husband perished under Khal Drogo."

My eyes widen, "How do you know of Khal Drogo?"

I swear we have not talked about my late brother-in-law. Drogo was a sensitive subject, even to Daenerys. We honor him for all he has done for my family. Despite breaking the contract with Viserys, he protected Daenerys and me until his dying breath.

"I can see everything. Everything that's ever happened to everyone. Everything that's happening right now. It's all pieces now, fragments. I need to learn to see better. When the Long Night comes again, I need to be ready."

"How do you know all this?" I asked.

"The Three-Eyed Raven taught me. He was he, and soon I became him. It's difficult to explain."

"I heard worse," I muttered then asked. "Tell me something from the past. Something that isn't common."

Bran paused, staring at me in a deep trance before saying, "You were so beautiful in Qarth. A starry night, not a single cloud with the moon shining above. You were so beautiful . . . in your purple dress. You were talking to Ser Jorah after receiving word from your Host about the news in Westeros. Daenerys telling you to take the offer, but Ser Jorah advising you to wait. When you two were alone, you were questioning yourself. But Ser Jorah told you, "…you have a gentle heart. You would not only be respected and feared, but you would also be loved."

I gasped slightly, for that was such a long time ago.

"It is one of the possible futures I see from you," he added.

"What is it you want to talk about?" I needed to change the subject.

"The last Three-Eyed Raven had something he could no longer keep," he explained, removing the furs on the object in hand. "Before his departure, he asked I return this to his mortal family."

Once he removed the furs, he exposed the object. It was a longsword, as the pommel was in the shape of golden fire. The grip bound by black leather, while the flames continue onto the crossguard. On the rain-guard was a ruby. Bran unsheathed the blade from its scabbard, revealing Valyrian steel.

_Dark Sister,_ Visenya whispered.

My eyes widen, "How…Dark Sister has been lost for centuries. How did you get your hands on it?"

Last I recalled, the previous owner was Ser Brynden Rivers. He vanished after decades of serving in the Night's Watch. No one has ever seen Bloodraven and Dark Sister since 252 AC.

"Bloodraven was the previous Three-Eyed Raven, he wanted you to have this," Bran said, handing it over. "Although you already have a sword."

I collected the blade staring at a forgotten jewel in my family. The only remaining artifact from Aegon's Conquest has been his ring, which I wear around my neck. Dark Sister and Blackfyre, my houses two priceless heirlooms had vanished since the first Blackfyre rebellion. The knowledge my family had left of the two Valyrian swords was one lost beyond the Wall, while the other in the hands of the Golden Company. Recalling the memory, Viserys trying to forge a contract with the Golden Company, and the Commander having Blackfyre secured on his waist taunting us. Now, Dark Sister was in my grasp.

Then came the knowledge that another Targaryen was dead. So only three dragons remain in the world. All this time, a distant relative was out there beyond the Wall as the Three-Eyed Raven. All this time…

"Thank you," was all I could say.

"I know the sword will be in good hands," he said. "Although it was not in your hands in the beginning."

I nodded since I was not trained in Longsword's. I only know how to fight with the short sword and arming sword. But thinking about it, I know the proper swordsmen who deserve to wield Dark Sister in the Long Night. Visenya created the Kingsguard, so only a Kingsguard shall use her until then.

"Anything else you want to talk about?" I asked.

"When the time comes, aim for the heart," he replied.

"I don't quite understand?" I replied.

"During the Long Night, when the time comes…aim for the heart." Bran explained.

I could only nod, understanding where this was going.

With nothing else to say, I nodded to Bran before going back to Ser Barristan, who stood there the entire time.

"What do you have there?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Dark Sister," I answered.

Ser Barristan's eyes widen as he stared at the sacred artifact.

"I'm not trained in the longsword, so…will you do me the honor of wielding Dark Sister," I said.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said, baffled by my gift. "You shouldn't…."

"Prince Aemon Targaryen once held this sword. He was once the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I insist," I said, handing it to him.

Ser Barristan held the sword eyes still wide in awe, holding a priceless gem.

"Thank you," he said.

I placed my hand on his shoulder, "You have been a loyal friend and served my family. Without you, I would have been lost in Westeros. You are the only person I have from my past." Afterward, I hugged him. "And a father figure."

"Alysanne," he whispered, wrapping his arm around me. "You and your sister have been daughters to me. I am honored to serve and protect you."

"Thank you," I murmured.

Ser Barristan nodded as he pulled away.

"Promise me one thing," he started.

"What is that?" I asked.

"No matter what, you and Daenerys remain in the sky," he said.

I nodded, knowing that is where my battle will be. Although his thoughts were different. Knowing Daenerys and I will not be in the battle where the Wights will infest the field. In the end, the Long Night was coming, and none of us are mentally prepared for it.

**.o0o.**

_Courtyard_

A sound of a horn caught the Keeps' attention. Jon, who has been occupied going over the battle Plans with the Knights and Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, stopped what he was doing and went to investigate who has arrived. Has House Glover reconsidered and sent men to join the battle? All he could pray from the old gods are more men.

As he came out to the courtyard, see a handful of horses with double riders. He spotted his once brother and the 999th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Eddison Tollet, or better known as Edd. Seeing him getting a hug from Sam, who rushed to greet him. The two embraced in a brotherly way. Jon was pleased to see his two friends from his years on the Wall. He made his way over, excited and relieved, when all of a sudden, a massive weight tackled him. Jon nearly fell when a boom of laughter caught him from crashing into the gravel. He looked up, seeing Tormund. Both men chuckled, glad to see his wildling friend alive as well.

"My little crow," Tormund chuckled.

"I thought we'd lost you," Jon panted, catching his breath.

"Almost," Tormund said, shaking his shoulder.

Jon nodded before giving Edd a proper hug. He also noticed Beric Dondarrion was alive as well as he leaned over, giving the man a handshake. Once done, he pulled back, looking at Edd.

"How did you find each other?" Jon asked.

"We met up at the Last Hearth," Edd answered.

"The dead got there first," Tormund added.

"The Umbers?" Jon asked, taking a deep breath.

"Fighting for the Night King now," Beric answered.

"We had to travel around them to get here. Whoever's not here now is with them." Tormund said.

"How long do we have?" Jon asked.

"Before the sun comes the day after tomorrow," Tormund guessed. He looked over his shoulder, "The big woman still here?"

Ever since Tormund came south of the Wall, there was little interested until he laid his eyes on Lady Brienne. Lady Sansa's sworn-shield and protector. He tried to woo the woman in the Southern way. He was not following his method of just taking her to be his bride. A challenged. Tormund loves a challenge.

However, Jon was not thinking about Tormund statement. They barely have a day left. Not enough time. The only thing he can be thankful for is evacuating his people to White Harbor. By now, they should be loaded onto the Valyrian ships and preparing to head South. He doesn't want his people to become the monsters he has encountered over the past five years.

"We better assemble the war council," Sam advised.

Jon nodded in agreement calling for everyone.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	83. Chapter 83: Twilight

_**Sister's Keepers**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content**_

* * *

**Chapter 83: Twilight**

_Alysanne's POV_

King Snow summoned everyone with an officer rank into the War Room. We gathered around the table where the battle plans were laid out. There were the usual participants, of House Stark, Ser Davos, and Lady Brienne. Daenerys, Ser Barristan, Tyrion, Varys, Grey Worm, Missandei, and Jorah stood beside me. Samwell Tarly had joined the council, although, he stood with the wildlings, Tormund, and Lord Commander Eddison Tolbert. His eyes were avoiding looking where Lord Randyll and Dickon stood, as the older man glared at his eldest son. In the meeting was also, Lady Alys Karstark, Lord Royce, Lady Lyanna Mormont with her advisor, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Gareth Wensington, Ser Garlan, Lord Beric, Quaithe with her sister, and other representatives. Let alone Visenya, as I could sense her in my head. Here we are going over the last arrangements for the Long Night.

Based on the survivors of The Wall, we have less than two days left. Basically, tomorrow night will be the battle. We all prayed for more time but based on Tyrion's geography, it is a two to three-week journey from the Wall, primarily through the Kings Road. However, the dead were traveling from Eastwatch-by-the-sea. In addition, the wights never grow tired and do not have human necessities. Not anymore. The survivors from the Wall made it a day earlier because they have horses. They were riding nonstop to make the distance between the Army of the Dead. Sadly, Lord Umber and the people of Keep were dead. Therefore, House Umber is now extinct.

"They're coming," King Snow said. "We have dragon glass and Valyrian steel. But there are too many of them. Far too many. Our enemy doesn't tire. Doesn't stop. Doesn't feel. We can't beat them in a straight fight."

"So, what can we do?" Ser Jaime asked.

"The Night King made them all. They follow his command." King Snow answered. "If he falls . . . getting to him may be our best chance."

"If that's true, he'll never expose himself," Ser Jaime noted.

"Yes, he will," Bran said by the fireplace, catching everyone's attention. "He'll come for me. He's tried before, many times, with many Three-Eyed Ravens."

"Why?" Samwell asked. "What does he want?"

"An endless night," Bran answered. "He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory."

"That's what death is, isn't it?" Samwell said, staring at Bran. "Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we've been and what we've done, we're not men anymore. Your memories don't come from books. Your stories aren't just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I'd start with you."

We are nothing without our memories. A single moment in time. We can document those moments in parchments or passed them on through word of mouth. But if you destroy humanity, there will be no one to write those stories down — no one to remember and share our stories. We may be intelligent creatures that the gods created on this earth; in the end, we are animals. We have needs like any animals. And here we are, the majority of us had a part in history. We all have fought in significant wars that altered the course of history. We all have a name, a title, and a story to tell. All of us fighting for a legacy either be passed down through our children or written on a page of a book.

"How will he find you?" Tyrion asked.

"His mark is on me," Bran answered, rolling up his sleeves, showing four rigged lines, practically burn marks of a hand on his forearm. "He always knows where I am."

"We'll put you in the Great Hall where it's safest," King Snow said.

"No," Bran casually disagreed. "We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."

"You want us to use you as bait?" Sansa asked, appalled.

"We're not leaving you alone out there." Arya agreed.

"He won't be. I'll stay with him." Theon promised, all eyes on the timid man. "With the Ironborn." He then looked at Bran. "I took this castle from you. Let me defend you now."

"As well as the Karstarks," Lady Alys Karstark added.

Sansa, Rickon, Jon, and Arya nodded, appreciating it.

"We'll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can," Ser Davos said.

"The Tarly Forces will handle the wall," Lord Randyll said.

"The Knights of the Vale and Dothraki will be the first defense," Ser Jorah added.

"Along with the Fiery Hand," Quaithe inserted.

"The Unsullied will guard the entrance," Grey Worm said.

"The Stormlanders and Soldiers of the Reach will be east side," Ser Gareth added, which Ser Garlan nodded.

Everyone confirmed the position in where their forces will be. Visenya was approving the strategy. With the trenches, fortification, and trebuchets, we have what we need to create distance between them from Winterfell.

"When the time comes, Ser Davos and I will be on the walls, to give the signal to light the trench," Tyrion said.

"No," Daenerys and I snapped.

"Ser Davos is perfectly capable of waving a torch on his own," I said. "You'll be in the Great Hall."

Tyrion glanced at Daenerys and I. As much as I am not pleased with his effort in uniting the Westernmen and Cersei in fighting in this Wall. I still need Tyrion alive for the next war after this. He was my Hand, and he knows King's Landing better than I. Despite how disappointed of him I am as of late. He was one of the critical components in reclaiming my home and bringing justice.

"Your Grace, I have fought before, I can do it again. Alongside the men and women that are risking their lives." Tyrion defended.

"You are a diplomat, not a warrior. There are thousands of them and only one of you." I disagreed. "You can't fight as well as they can, but you can think better than any of them. You're here because of your mind. If we survive, I'll need it."

"The dragons should give us an edge in the field," Ser Davos changed the subject.

"If they're in the field, they're not protecting Bran," King Snow said. "We need to be near him. Not too close or the Night King won't come. But close enough to pursue him when he does."

"Dragon fire will stop him?" Arya asked Bran.

"I don't know," Bran answered. "No one's ever tried."

"Another issue is the ice dragon," I added in which all eyes were on me. "No one has seen an ice dragon this far west in thousands of years. Bran the Builder managed to capture it to aid him in building the Wall. But it is a wild, aggressive dragon. One we are not sure is dead being controlled by the Night King or has been frozen in time for eight thousand years."

"What do you recommend?" Ser Gareth asked.

"Based on Lord Beric's and Tormund's accounts, the dragon is under the spell of the Joramun horn. Kill the Night King, and the spell will be broken."

"Does he have the horn still?" Lord Randyll asked.

"He does," Bran confirmed.

"So, we grab the horn, and the next person blows on it, controlling the beast," Lord Randyll suggested.

"Maybe so," Ser Barristan said. "However, we will need the dragons ready for what is to come."

"A war of Ice and Fire," Quaithe murmured.

Silence engulfed the room.

"We're all going to die," Tormund, the Wildling, stated out loud then looked at Lady Brienne. "But at least we die together."

"Let's get some rest, for what is to come tomorrow," Ser Barristan advice.

Everyone nodded as they made their departure. King Snow turned to Daenerys and me, giving a bow, before leaving. Daenerys was going to reach out, yet the King in the North fled as fast as a stallion. This struck my sister; however, she kept her composure, knowing what is to come. She only nodded and left with her Dothraki generals. I stared at Aggo and Kovarro, who nodded, keeping a closer eye on their Khaleesi. No doubt, my sister wants to be alone. A part of me wanted to comfort her; at the same time, a battle was about to begin.

_Give her time_, Visenya said.

I sighed and mentally nodded, turning my attention to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan. Two important men who have been with me since Essos. My lover and my surrogate father. Jorah was going to be in the calvary line since he was the only man who can speak Dothraki and Common Tongue. I fear for him. Since he was going to fight in the dangerous part of the battlefield, meanwhile, Ser Barristan will be fighting in the right flank with the Stormlanders.

"Rest, Your Grace, you will need it," Ser Barristan said. "Ser Jorah, escort her grace to her chambers."

This caught Jorah off guard, yet he nodded leading the way. I looked over my shoulder, seeing Ser Barristan giving the nod before leaving through a different door. All who remain were Tyrion and Bran. We continue on our way back, keeping the façade of Queen and protector.

Once we were at the tower where our quarters were, Jorah lead me to my chambers. We stopped at the door, where Jorah will say goodbye. However, just as he was about to speak. I placed my fingers on his lips to silence him. Speaking in Dothraki:

**"This could be our last night. Stay."**

Jorah looked around.

**"My bear and protector,"** I murmured, cradling his cheek. **"I am yours, as you are mine."**

With nothing else to say, Jorah conceded. We entered my chambers, locking the door to give us privacy. No one who isn't part of my council, Dothraki, and Unsullied will enter these parts of the castle. We headed over to the table, stripping our armor off, leaving us in our trousers and tunics.

I stepped towards him, presenting myself to him. He stood there, letting my hands go to his chest, untying the strings for his undertunic. He stood there, allowing it. Each string came undone until he rolled his shoulders, taking it off, exposing his chest. The fire from the fireplace was illuminating his scars. It looked like his skin was marred by fire, despite the fact they came from a blade. Jorah placed a hand on my cheek staring at me as he gave a soft, gentle kiss. I kissed him back, as all our composure snapped. In haste, all our clothes came off.

Jorah picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me to the bed. The moment I was on the feather bed, he lashed his tongue over my nipple and sucked deeply. I gasped; I've missed his touch since traveling North. I raked my fingers through his hair and helped him there at my breast. All the attention he was giving, had me squirming and arching into his mouth.

When his fingers slicked between my legs and pressed firmly against the opening, another gasp escaped. Not a second longer, he inserted his fingers, causing me to rock against his hand. Jorah chuckled as he leaned up to my ear and tugged on the lobe with his teeth. He glided his fingers in and out while his thumb pressed firmly there on my swollen pearl. Grabbing the sheets, throwing my head back, arching some more, exposing my neck to him as he kissed my throat, lavishing the skin with his tongue while his fingers moved faster. Until he curled his fingers stroking a spot deep inside. I cried out, which he silences with a kiss as an orgasm took over me.

Jorah continues to move his fingers, slowing down the climax.

"Jorah," I managed to say, still lost in breath.

He adjusted my leg, shifting his thighs to press his erection against my opening. No longer wanting him far away, I gripped his shoulders and tugged him down to kiss. Hard and messy, delving deep for him. Heartbeat still thudding and fluttering. I maneuver one hand to grasp his member, causing him to groan. Turning our position, I straddle his waist and slide down his member. We both felt one and complete. Slowly I rocked upon Jorah's prone body, feeling the glide of him deep inside. His hands travel along my body, stirring magic deep inside, heighten every sense, every touch, every slick skin against skin to an intense sensation. He cupped my breast as I rode him, and moaned as my inner muscles squeezed him.

We didn't speak. We hardly speak unless it was our names — the coldness vanishing from the fire within. One hand stayed on my breast while the other slid down over to my pearl, drawing up a moan from deep within. My body shuddered, tremoring as an orgasm was fast approaching. It wasn't long until I came. Jorah took the opportunity to flip us over as he seeks his release. He was thrusting faster and harder until his member grew and twitched. On the tenth thrust, he came.

Our night did not end there, as we made love until we were satisfied.

**.o0o.**

The sky did not wake as usual as I stood by the windowsill, with a robe on peeking out through the drapes and cracks through the shudders. The timing candles informed it was morning. But, as I looked out through the small opening to view the outside world, the grey sky was absent and replaced by twilight. The Long Night has begun.

A pair of arms wrapped around my waist while a head rested on my shoulder. Jorah leaned in, taking a deep breath of my scent.

"You must remain on Viserion at all cost," he murmured.

"I can't promise that," I replied, placing my hand on his neck. Feeling the scar on his neck.

Jorah sighed, knowing I have a part to play in this war. King Snow, Daenerys, and I talked about it in private. Daenerys will be part of the defenses, burning the wights once the trebuchets run out of ammunition. Meanwhile, King Snow and I remained in wait for the Night King. Once he and the Ice Dragon show, we will attack trying to burn them both or at least destroy the Night King, breaking the spell and get the horn. Although, I must take Visenya's training into account…in case I need to eliminate the beast.

I turned my head slightly, staring at Jorah, who looked at me with concern. His unconditional love for me. Sometimes I wonder how a man such as he could love me both body and soul. Jorah would do anything for me. He would fight for me, kill for me, and die for me even though I don't want him to die. I don't want him to be in the calvary, the second defenses when the fortification comes down. We never exchanged the words "I love you" due to our position. But deep down, we wanted more.

Jorah leaned down and kissed me. I kissed him back, being soft and gentle. Jorah slipped off my robe, we were both naked now, our body chilled by the window and warmth from the fireplace. His erection nudged against my back buttocks. I was about to turn all the way, except he caught my wrist and turned me back, placing my hands on the windowsill. His hand glided around, cupping my breast and pinched the nipple as he dragged his erection between my clasped thighs. A wanting growl escaped him, he clenched my nipples and…oh the seven. These moments were rare, him surprising me with sex in the least expected places. Already, I was ready for him.

Drawing my heel along the side of his calf, I thrust back against him, silently begging him for entry. Jorah's hand slapped to my stomach, covering it completely, then slide down onto my hip, where he simultaneously guided himself inside, if not teasing my clit at the same time. A deep moan left my lip, my walls stretching to his size, thick by his girth, and long, penetrating deep. Jorah let out a groan, muttering in a thick Northern accent. Slowly he pulled out and pushed back in, let alone his fingers dancing over my clit.

I grasped the windowsill, feeling him buried to the hilt. In this position, I could feel him so deep. A few times, my feet were lifted off the floor as his thrust moved my entire body. He gently bit my shoulder and growled, "Not going to be able to hold off much longer."

"Jorah, don't…hold…back," I moaned, I was close as well.

His hand slapped onto the windowsill beside me. He held me pinned there on his cock as my body tremored and pumped harder. After three more thrusts, I came, my walls clenching around him as bliss took over. And then he gasped, as both of his hands were around and over my breast while pulling me against his body. He came inside, his seeds going deep.

Both of us were hunched over the windowsill, thankful for the shudders giving us privacy. At the same time, overwhelmed as our senses recover in sinful bliss. If only this weren't our possible last day together.

Afterward, we freshened up and got dressed for the day. I helped Jorah put on his armor, making sure all of his armor was secured. I will not have him injured like he was in Essos.

"You are over-worrying yourself," he murmured.

"Can I help it?" I asked.

Jorah sighed, shaking his head, knowing it was a part of me. I will always care for my people. It was part of my nature — the maternal side in me. Once done, Jorah stood up and looked at me. He cradles my cheek.

"Have faith, Alysanne," he murmured.

I nodded, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he said.

"Talk to your cousin," I said. "Make amends with your family. Before it is too late."

"Alysanne," he sighed.

"Mormont," I muttered.

He smirked slightly, knowing he was stubborn. But knew he had to make amends, or it will be the end for him. He lost his mother as a child, and through the deception to false love, his home due to wife, and the consequence of losing his father and aunt. All that remains is Lyanna Mormont. It is best Jorah talks to her before the end of this night.

**.o0o.**

_The Courtyard_

_Missandei's POV_

Missandei was making her way back to the keep to attend to her Queen. No doubt, Alysanne will need help getting into her armor. She was nervous about what is to come but had faith in the living. As she continues walking, seeing the men prepared for what is to come. Already the morning light has vanished, night turning into twilight. She had spent the night in Grey Worms company. Cherishing each other's warmth.

Little did she know that her lover was following her.

He stopped seeing where Missandei was going. Missandei stopped noticing two girls sitting there. She came over to greet them.

"Hello," Missandei said in common tongue.

The eldest girl stood up, grabbing her sister's hand and walked away, Missandei stood there confused. She did no wrong, just a simple greeting. She let out a sighed and turned around to see Grey Worm standing there, observing what had transpired. He came over to give her support.

"When Alysanne takes her throne . . . there will be no place for us here," Grey Worm said. "I am loyal to my Queen. I will fight for her until her enemies are defeated, but when the war is over, and she has won . . ." he paused and whispered. "...do you want to grow old in this place?"

Missandei looked around. The North was different from the South. Although, her encounters with Southern Kingdoms have been on Dragonstone. A memory of a once-great empire of Valyria. Yes, she went through the library, reading books about the other kingdoms, and seeing illustrations of their castles and keeps — nothing like Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. Yet, seeing Lord Randyll Tarly and the Northerner's behaviors towards them, she felt discouraged. Missandei keeps reminding herself she was a free woman, a friend, and confidant to the Queen using her talent to support their cause. But…after the two wars…does she want to remain by Alysanne and Daenerys' side?

"Is there nothing else you want to do, nothing else you want to see?"

The word slips from her mouth like sweet fruit, "Naath."

Grey Worm smiled, remembering Missandei talking about Naath. A peaceful paradise island, that sadly was invaded. A thought came to him; he will go anywhere where Missandei goes. And knowing their Queen, she will allow them.

"I'd like to see the beaches again," Missandei continued.

"Then I will take you there," Grey Worm promised.

"My people are peaceful," Missandei reminded. "We cannot protect ourselves."

"My people are not peaceful. We will protect you," he promised again.

Missandei smiled softly as she took his hand. She remembers Alysanne talking about working on trade with Naath. Once she is Queen and her crown secured, Alysanne would send the Unsullied who are from Naath to help protect the people. The reason why only a few outsiders come to Naath is because of the butterflies. The butterflies were poisonous, having toxins on their wings that were lethal. Causing butterfly fever. Her people were immune, believing it was the gods protecting them. Missandei also knew why, they grew up on the land eating a special fruit. If Missandei can get the fruit to Grey Worm, then he can be immune to the Butterfly fever as well.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

The evening was fast approaching. With the absence of dawn and day, they had to rely on the time candles that have been going on since the sky is no longer on his side. Jon spent most of his time on the preparation. Talking with his men and small conversations with his family. His thoughts were everywhere. Not the same the past week since Sam told him the truth of his parentage.

Aenar Targaryen.

His birth name was Aenar. He was named after the Dragonlord, who believed his daughter about the Doomed and led those who believe in setting sail for the West. Sounds fitting, since Jon did the same for the Wildlings. Sadly, Aenar and his people escaped the Doom and the eruption while Jon is facing death and ice. Complete opposites.

Another issue is his parentage. Lyanna Stark was his mother; meanwhile, his father was Rhaegar Targaryen. His parents loved each other, despite the fact that Rhaegar was married to Elia Martell and Lyanna betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Their union started a war, and he was a secret product of it. If people know the truth, …it will lead to more death.

He tried to discourage it, staring at the mirror, wondering what trait of a Targaryen is there — comparing his features to the Dragon Sisters. He doesn't have white, silver-white, or golden-white hair. His eyes were dark brown, nearly black, not a unique shade of purple. The only thing he had a common with the sisters was the pale skin, yet he disagreed. So many northern men are pale from the long winters.

Yet, it was the smaller features, not the color. His head shape was the same as Alysanne, while his nose was close to Daenerys.

When he talks to Alysanne, there was a sense of familiarity, almost when he talks to Uncle Benjen. Daenerys, on the other hand…he clenched his fist. He was starting to have feelings for Daenerys, except now things are different. She is his aunt. Incent…no, he couldn't. He knows the risk. He has seen it at Craster's with the many daughters/wives. Let alone Little Sam's development growth, the boy though healthy, he was not the size of an average four-year-old.

How can he tell them or anyone about it?

So far, only Bran, Sam, and Gilly knows about his parentage. That Rhaegar annulled his wife and married another. Jon thinks three people knew his secret is better than more. He just doesn't know what to do. He is not a bastard, never was. If only Ned had told him. Jon decided he will visit the tombs one last time to see if the ancestors can help him.

Ghost whimpered. Jon patted Ghost, knowing he has been neglecting his familiar as of late. From training the men, preparation for battle, and dragon training. It was strange; the connection he has with Rhaegal was the same as with Ghost. Then again, he was half wolf and half dragon. How ironic the dragon he is riding is named after his father. Yet Daenerys is riding Drogon named after her late husband and Alysanne riding Viserion, who is named after her brother-husband. He needs to ask Alysanne why to name a dragon after a terrible person unless there was a Targaryen in history of that origin, he is unaware of.

Footsteps could be heard as Jon looked over to see Sam.

"Have you told them yet?" Sam asked.

Jon gave him a look, "No."

Sam nodded, understanding, "Mm-Hmm. Being careful. Binding your time. Waiting for the perfect—"

Jon gave him a warning look. "I'm King in the North. Alysanne ensured that the North would be under my care."

"And she is giving you the North just like that?" Sam asked, baffled.

"She has addressed me as King, much as I don't like it," Jon muttered in the last part.

Sam found this strange, wondering why Alysanne would allow the North to have its independence. Was it her way for compensation to House Stark what the Targaryens did? It was strange what Alysanne has been doing. Based on the accounts, he thought the Dragon Queen holds more to her good ancestors. Nothing like her father. Now he feels ashamed in telling Jon's his parentage before the war.

The sound of footsteps caught their attention as the two men glanced over, noticing Edd joining the conversation. Sam found it strange to see Edd wearing the Lord Commander cloak, instead of Jon. Things inevitably change since he left Castle Black.

Edd stood between them, "And now our watch begins."

Jon nodded in agreement. Repeating the history that happens eight-thousand years ago. During the first Night Watch.

"Gilly? Little Sam?" Jon asked.

"They'll be safe in the Great Hall," Sam managed to say.

"If you want to join them…" Jon started.

Sam raised a brow as if he was insulted,

"To protect them." Jon tried to explain.

"Everyone seems to forget that I was the first man to kill a White Walker," Sam bitterly reminded. "I've killed Thenns."

"Thenn," Edd corrected.

"I've saved Gilly more than once," Sam continued. "I stole a considerable number of books from the Citadel library, survived the Fist of the First Men. You need me out there."

Another thing Sam was not mentioning is that he wanted to prove to his father and brother he was a man. He may not look like their ideal masculine figure, but Sam is a fighter.

"Well, if that's what it's come to, we really are fucked," Edd muttered.

"Well, calling you "fucked," wouldn't be strictly accurate," Sam sarcastically replied.

Jon snorted a laugh along with a chuckle. He was feeling the mirth back in their days on the Wall. He could imagine Grenn and Pyp's responses to that, hearing their laughs.

Edd shook his head, "Samwell Tarly. Slayer of White Walkers. Lover of Ladies. As if we needed any more signs, the world was ending."

Sam sighed, "Think back to where we started. Us, Grenn, Pyp."

Jon sadly nodded, "Now it's just us three."

"The last man left, burn the rest of us," Edd said.

All three of them stared out to the horizon where the forest waited. They could see the torches in the far distance. Once those torches go out, the battle begins.

**.o0o.**

_Samwell's POV_

After talking with his brothers, Sam rushed to his room, grabbing Heartsbane before searching for Ser Jorah. Heartsbane was his family's Valyrian sword. It has been in his family for a generation. But out of the three Tarly men, neither of them was worthy of wielding the sword. Sam remembered what his grandfather told him about being a man. It wasn't his strength or skill with his sword; it was about how sharp one's mind is.

Sam continued to search for Ser Jorah. Sam knew Ser Jorah being on the front line would need a sword that can easily kill a wight. Dragon glass, fire, and Valyrian steel are the only things that can kill a wight. Let alone, Lord Randyll and Dickon will be on the wall. So they wouldn't actually use Heartsbane. It's a massive sword, and the wall is indeed narrow. That was Sam's excuse.

As Sam was walking through the many steps, he stared at the courtyard and noticed his father. Lord Randyll was on the wall, getting the Tarly forces prepared for archery. He glared at Sam with a disappointed look. Sam sighed, no matter what he does, his father will always see him as a disappointed. All because of his appearance. Sam held back a snort since he has lost some weight, yet, he was still massive. At least, he felt warm compared to his brothers. But deep down, Sam knew his home was with Gilly and Little Sam. He will always love his mother and siblings. Yet Gilly and Little Sam are the only people he cares about.

That's why he needs Ser Jorah to be his hand for Heartsbane.

It wasn't long as he found Ser Jorah talking to his cousin.

Well… more like arguing.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

"We have all we need to win this war," Jorah told his cousin.

Lyanna stood before him in her armor. A fierce young adolescent girl. If she was five years older, Jorah might have allowed her to fight. But Lyanna was still a child in his eyes. The last of House Mormont in name and blood. The last of

Joren Mormont's bloodline. Jorah would rather have his cousin in the Great Hall with all the volunteers instead out on the battlefield. To be clear, Lyanna chose to operate the gate. Making sure if there was a retreat, the gates are secured. Despite all the fortification and defenses, there is a possible chance of a retreat. Jorah truly wanted her inside and safe.

"I have trained my men, women, and children. I have fought before I can fight again." Lyanna said.

Although, she was on the sidelines during the Battle of the Bastards. Assigned to give the orders on the arches which they were sadly not used. Due to Jon's rashness to save Rickon.

Jorah tried not to get infuriated, "Please, listen to me. You're the future of our house. "

"I don't need you to remind me of that," Lyanna scolded.

"You'll be safer in the Great Hall," he tried to explain. "These things we're fighting—"

"I will not hide behind closed doors," she interrupted. "I pledged to fight for the North, and I will fight."

Jorah sighed in defeat and nodded. Lyanna was indeed a true Mormont. Stubborn as a bear. Now he wonders if this is what Alysanne dealt with. A small thought of surviving that any children he sires will act like this. Now that would be a nightmare. He looked up and noticed Sam standing there. Lyanna turned around, spotting him as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- " Sam started to apologize.

"It's all right," Lyanna assured him, then looked at her elder cousin. "We're done here." She started to walk toward her guards, though stopped to face Jorah, "I wish you good fortune, cousin."

This surprised Jorah not expecting it; he nodded, giving a bow, "Thank you, my lady."

Lyanna nodded and headed towards her post.

Jorah sighed and turned his attention to Sam, noticing the sword in his hand.

"What have you got there?" Jorah asked.

Sam came over, "It's called Heartsbane. It's my family sword."

"You still have a family," Jorah reminded. Since Lord Tarly and Dickon were here, and Sam's adopted family with Gilly and Little Sam. He wonders why Sam didn't give the sword back to his father. Lord Randyll used Heartsbane during Robert's Rebellion.

"Yes. And I'd love to defend them with it," Sam said, with a pause biting his bottom lip before adding. "But I can't really hold it upright. Your father, he taught me how to be a man, how to do what's right. This is right."

Jorah was baffled by this.

"It's Valyrian steel. I'd be honored if you take it." Sam said, handing it over to Jorah.

Jorah slowly held the great sword. He stared at the handle, seeing the details of forest design as the crossguard was shaped like a bow, the rain guard the arrow, while the pommel fashioned as arrow fletching. It was a two-handed handle; meanwhile, the scabbard was made of wood.

Something a warrior huntsman to have. He slides the blade out slightly, seeing the Valyrian steel, observing the fire that was trapped inside. Unlike the Targaryen Sword that showed a dragon fire or Longclaw's fire of that feral fire, Heartsbane fire in essence on the steel appeared to be that of a forest fire.

"I'll wield it in his memory…" Jorah promised as he secured the blade. "To guard the realms of men."

Sam smiled from that, "I'll see you when it's through."

Jorah nodded as he watched Sam leave, though the young man stops.

"I hope we win," Sam said, before finally leaving.

Jorah went to secured Heartsbane, though stopped when hearing footsteps.

"Are you forgetting something?" Alysanne asked.

Jorah stopped trying to think what he had forgotten before turning around to see the answer. Alysanne was holding his barbuta helmet. Next to Alysanne was Ser Barristan as he wore his barbuta helmet while holding the dragon Queen's protection. She stood before him as the reincarnation of Aegon. She was wearing a deep red gambeson, chainmail, and armor. The harness secured around her waist with the Targaryen sword strapped on. Let alone her hair pulled back in braids.

"I almost forgot," Jorah replied as he stepped forward, collecting the helmet.

He stared down at Alysanne, seeing the worry in her eyes. He couldn't blame her; he was in charge of the second defenses. The calvary, since he was the only man capable of fighting who could speak Dothraki.

"Alysanne," he started.

However, she interrupted as she stood up and kissed him. There was much love and passion that he couldn't resist as he kissed her back, wrapping his arm around her. The only thing separating them was their armor. They kissed for a moment until their lungs begged for air. As he pulled back, he panted, ignoring the curious eyes and those of disapproval.

"Come back to me," Alysanne whispered.

Jorah didn't know what to say, knowing the odds were against him. Not wanting to displease her, he cradles her cheek and pecks her forehead as he said, "As you wish."

"I love you," she said.

"And I you," he whispered.

Letting go of Alysanne, he stepped back and looked at Ser Barristan. "Protect her with all your might."

"As do you," Ser Barristan said.

Jorah nodded as he put on his helmet before getting on his horse. He joined Qhono and Aggo, leading the Dothraki generals to the battlefield. He stopped at the gate, glancing over his shoulder, knowing this will probably the last chance.

_I will fight for you. Kill for you. And die for you,_ Jorah thought.

The gate opened, and after a second glance, he departed into the battlefield were darkness lurk.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I watched him leaving into the dark abyss of the battlefield. Despite all the countermeasures the war council has made, no matter how many trenches and the fortification that was assembled. I have a feeling the dead will still make it over to fight humanity. We can only spare the men time before the battle truly begins.

A hand rested on my shoulder as I broke my trance to see Ser Barristan with a knowing look. He too once fell in love; only it was someone he could never have. Ashara Dayne, who was one a lady in waiting for Elia. Sadly, with the sacrifice from my resurrection and childhood before that, I don't remember her anymore. Only her tragic death.

"Let's head to the sept and pray one last time," Ser Barristan offered.

I nodded, knowing the Gods, both old and new, need to help us.

We headed to the small sept that was dedicated to those who worship the Seven. Apparently, Winterfell didn't worship the Seven until Lady Catelyn came, who was a devout worshiper, that Ned Stark built this shrine to honor her practices. We went to the one in the castle; it was room size where the Seven-pointed Star hung with candles lit all around. On a table were small statues of the seven: Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Warrior, Smith, and Stranger

I stared at the stranger; a shrouded being remembering how the god of death kissed me on the lips. Daenerys told me about her dream, her supposed encounter with the Stranger. The hymn the deity sang before putting my vessel to rest. Shuddering slightly, I step forward to the table and kneel before the gods. Resting my forehead on the stone, and my arms spread out.

I pray to each of them, for tonight, we need all Seven to lend their aid once more. I pray to the Father to give humanity justice and judge the souls who have fallen. I pray to the Mother for her strength for the women, her mercy, and save the sons in the war. I pray to the Maiden in protecting the innocent. I pray to the Crone for her wisdom. I pray to the Warrior for his strength and courage in battle. I pray to the Smith that all the dragon glass weapons are strong to destroy our enemies. And lastly, I pray to the Stranger, begging this deity to not the let the dead to rise and defeat this unknown.

"Please, my seven gods help us win this night," I prayed.

I sat up, staring at the Seven-Pointed Star. I have worshiped them, for my mother has done so. Our only time to leave the Red Keep was during prayer. Father couldn't deny worship. Otherwise, the Faith would challenge him. Now, I truly need all Seven gods to aid us once more. I glance to see Ser Barristan finishing his prayer towards the Warrior and Smith. Once he was done, he nodded as he stood up.

"Ser Barristan…" I started but couldn't finish.

"I know, your grace," Ser Barristan said.

"You've been a father figure to me since joining. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, too," I murmured.

He gave a soft smile, "After this battle, your next step is happiness."

"I don't understand," I replied.

"You will after this night," he assured as he pecked the top of my head in a fatherly way.

I nodded, staring at the Valyrian sword, seeing Dark Sister strapped to his side. Knowing he has the advantage than most knights on the battlefield.

"Aly?" Daenerys voice spoke up.

Our attentions turned to the door to see Daenerys standing there in her white fur coat. Hopefully, she was wearing her leather armor underneath it. I had spent most of the morning with Daenerys as we went over the battle strategies with the dragons. By the afternoon hours, she left with Missandei to find Jon. Based on her facial expression, I doubt she spotted him yet.

"Yes, Dany?" I replied.

"Have you seen Jon?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, I haven't," I answered.

"I think I saw him heading to the crypt," Ser Barristan replied.

Daenerys nodded.

"And girls," he started.

Both of us stared at Ser Barristan.

"Stay on your dragons no matter what," he said.

"We will," Daenerys promised. "And you be careful."

We watched Daenerys leave for the crypts. I stared at Missandei.

"Have you spoken to Grey Worm?" I asked her.

"Not since this morning," she answered.

"It's best you do so now," I advised.

Missandei nodded, seeing how urgent it was to be with her lover. She bowed, then left, leaving Ser Barristan and I in the shrine room. Hoping that the gods heard our prayer.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

_The Crypts_

After having spent time with her sister. Daenerys went in search of Jon. There were a few hours left before the battle, and she would like to spend it with Jon. She didn't understand why he was avoiding her. From the Dragon pit to the first week in Winterfell, everything seemed to find. A slow-progressing courtship. As much as she would like to rush into bed with him, she respected Jon's boundaries. Although, since this could be their last night, she wanted a chance. But she couldn't understand why he was avoiding her. What did she do wrong?

She got word that Jon was in the Crypt. Therefore, she headed there. She was told the only family of the Starks and royals were the only ones allowed in the Crypts when it is not burying the dead. She told Kovarro to wait outside, in which he nodded. Daenerys nodded as she went inside into the deep dark tomb.

A long tomb filled with Kings since the birth of Winterfell. Men were standing or sitting there with direwolves. The deeper she went, she noticed the statues no longer had direwolves, but average wolves, before there were none until spotting Jon where light from the torches was illuminating the darkness. The statues were different. They were now more detailed and refined compared to others. Although the statues no longer had wolves next to them. She also notices a change in the statues. Three statues were of women. One stood next to a second crypt. She had a crest shield by her feet of House Tully. Daenerys assumed she was Catelyn Tully, and the crypt over was her husband, Eddard Stark. The next woman was sitting attached to the crypt of a handsome male with a direwolf by his side. So, this woman was Talisa Maegyr. Lastly, Jon stood in front of the last female statue in this corridor. Unfortunately, this statue was different from the finer detailed one. As if the water smoothed out the edges.

The woman stood there; a hand reached out, holding a candle while the other clutched her chest. Her features soften, poorly carved to tell if she was a young maiden or a woman. Her hair was down, and a shawl wrapped around her shoulder. All in all, it was the complete opposite from Queen Rhaella's statue, so elegant a refine.

Jon stared at his mother statue, trying to understand what her mindset was. She was only sixteen when she met Rhaegar and seventeen when she gave birth to him. At first, Jon thought his mother was a naïve woman, yet…what little he has been told about her, holding the spirit of Arya, couldn't be so willing. So many questions he wanted to ask her. And yet, her spirit couldn't reply. Could only stare at him through stone eyes.

The sound of steps caught Jon's attention as he glanced over. It was Daenerys. As she came over, wrapping her arms around him. So many thoughts were lingering in his head, that the women he truly liked with after Ygritte, was actually his aunt.

"Who's that?" She asked.

Jon hesitated before answering, "Lyanna Stark."

Daenerys tensed. She did not know the full story. All she knew about Lyanna Stark was that she was the woman her eldest brother fell for and started a war. She stared at Jon, confused, noticing his eyes were watery. Maybe there was something she missed. Viserys spoke ill about Lyanna. Alysanne was quiet about her, saying, "There's more to the story we were unaware of." And Ser Barristan tried to explain but couldn't.

"My brother Rhaegar . . . everyone told me he was decent and kind. He liked to sing. Gave money to poor children. And he raped her." Daenerys said, staring at the statue.

"He didn't," Jon whispered, eyes still locked on Lyanna's statue. "He loved her."

He turned his attention to Daenerys, holding her hands.

"They were married in secret," he explained. "After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son. Robert would have murdered the baby if he ever found out, and Lyanna knew it. So… the last thing she did, as she bled to death on her birthing bed was give the boy to her brother . . . Ned Stark...to raise as his bastard."

Daenerys's eyes widen as she comprehended his words.

"My name . . . my real name . . . is Aenar Targaryen." Jon announced.

Daenerys exhaled sharply, pulling away. Comprehending the truth that he was telling her. The other side of the same coin of truth. The missing side. One that would change everything Westeros has known. The War, a war that could have been prevented, and the Targaryen bloodline were still intact. All of it based on a lie — an act of love destroying an entire continent.

Everything that she has known was a lie. Here she stood facing her nephew. All this time, she thought there were four Targaryens left when she was a child: Aemon, Viserys, Alysanne, and herself. Aemon died from age, Viserys killed by Drogon, leaving her and Alysanne. Then Alysanne told her about a distant relative…Bloodraven, who has lived centuries beyond the Wall, only to die and asked Bran to return the sword. Once more, leaving the girls abandoned. And now, Jon is telling her his deepest secret.

Basically, everything she and Alysanne had done in the campaign for Westeros was done for nothing. A part of her had wished they stayed in Essos. Alysanne ruling the Ghiscari province, while she ran the Dothraki Sea. However, it was the vision of the Long Night that brought them here. Fighting in the Great War, and receiving the Iron Throne was their reward.

Unfortunately, with this patriarchal society, a woman is second from inheritance.

"That's impossible," Daenerys said. Thinking that if the facts are true, then Jon would still be a bastard. Since Rhaegar was married to Elia.

"I wish it were," Jon confessed.

"Who told you this?" she asked.

"Bran," Jon answered. "He saw it."

"He saw it?" she asked.

"And Samwell confirmed it," he added. "Gilly read about their marriage at the Citadel to Sam without even knowing what it meant. He divorced Elia and married Lyanna on the same day."

"A secret no one in the world knew... except your brother and your best friend," she sneered. "Doesn't it seem strange to you?

Jon stepped closer, "It's true, Dany. I know it is."

Daenerys paused, staring at his dark eyes, seeing the truth. She just had a hard time believing it.

"If it were true, it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen," She said. "You'd have a claim to the Iron Throne."

Before Jon could explain that he doesn't want it, the blaring of the horn caught his attention. Immediately, Jon and Daenerys left the crypt and headed to the Northside of the wall, facing the battlefield. Alysanne and Tyrion stood there in a deep trance, watching the men get into formation. All four of them stared out into the battlefield. The towers that had the torches in the forest were extinguished.

"It's time," Alysanne said.

Jon looked at Daenerys, who nodded. With nothing else to say, all three of them left to join their dragons who waited at the south gate. Tyrion watched them leave, sensing some tension between the young couple. He hopes this tension doesn't affect the plan.

He then stared ahead.

The Long Night has begun.

* * *

**Next chapter is the Long Night.**

**OMG this is my longest chapter so far, reaching over 8000 words.**

**I can't we have made it this far. It has not been a complete year yet. I thank you so much in reading this story. Also don't forget to leave a review. We are almost at 1000 reviews!**


	84. Chapter 84: The Long Night

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: I won't be covering everyone's POV. I am more focused on Alysanne, Jorah's, Daenerys, Ser Barristan, and Jon's with a few miscellaneous characters. I can assume that all the other characters that were not shown basically had the same plot in the show. So please, do not write a post about "What happens to character A?" or "Wait, Character B is not being used." My focus is on the Targaryens and their trusted allies. This is not a Stark bashing. I love the Starks, but this story is Targaryen perception. What do you think? Will the ending be the same as the TV show? Place your bets and pray.**_

* * *

**Chapter 84: The Long Night**

_Quaithe's POV_

Quaithe watched from the beam observing the courtyard being prepared for battle. Seeing the soldiers inside the keep prepare for battle. She observed everyone, countless futures, knowing the truth. She witnesses important people and obedient men who wanted to live. The Unsullied marching through to take their position at the front of the gate. The women, children, and elderly who were not able to evacuate are being escorted to the Great Hall, where all the windows and doors were barricaded. She saw Lady Mormont telling her men to get the gate ready. She could hear Lord Randyll Tarly and Dickon shouting orders to the archers to man their position. It was organized chaos, one filled with fear.

She continued to watch through her mask, until her brown eyes landed on Brandon Stark, who was being pushed by Theon with Lady Alys Karstark escorting him to the Godswood. Both of them stared at each other. The Three-Eyed Raven and Shadowbinder have seen many possible futures. In all of them, there shall be bloodshed and death. None of them could tell the living the truth about the future, for if they did, it would never happen. Bran nodded to Quaithe, who nodded back. Never have they spoken, yet their all-seeing eyes communicated for them.

"It's best you head inside," Lord Randyll told Quaithe.

"I shall stay until the time is right," Quaithe assured him.

Lord Randyll scowled, still finding this mysterious woman an outcast despite the fact she was not Unsullied or Dothraki. She holds no physical attributes as a threat. But from what he heard, she was a Shadowbinder, and they are bad news. His eyes then fell upon his son Samwell, rushing through the grounds nervous with a short sword and dagger, each made of obsidian. He hadn't had a word with Samwell, didn't want to other than retrieving his Valyrian sword. Seeing Samwell didn't have it pissed him off. He shall confront the Queen about his son's crimes and bring justice.

"You have lost an opportunity," Quaithe murmured.

Lord Randyll looked at her, confused, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You have torn the bond by pride, never seeing the potential in your eldest son," she murmured.

"He's no Tarly; he's not even a man," he scoffed.

"There is more to a man than a warrior," she said. "An arrow can be lethal, but the sharpness is not for the kill. But a keen eye. If it weren't for your son, none of us would have learned about the dragon glass. If it wasn't for your son, this gathering most likely would never happen."

Lord Randyll was about to challenge her, but Quaithe stared deep into his eyes, piercing him in his place. "Your chance for redemption is tonight and never tomorrow."

With nothing else to say, Quaithe walked away to find a better place to observe the battle. She glanced over the battlement, seeing that Melisandre had managed to escape and went to give the spell to help in their advantage. Both here to observe fire and ice fight in different forms and ways in this battle.

She found a spot with Lady Sansa and Arya. She stood behind them, watching over the battlefield. It was total darkness—the Wolfswood disappearing in a dark mass of nothing. The only light they could see were the torches on top of the fortifications, and fire pits to give some visual aid for the calvary and soldiers. Silence had engulfed Winterfell. The three women couldn't hear anything. The air was cold that they can see one's breath.

Suddenly there was a dragon roar. They looked up to see the dragons flying over the Castle, heading to the mountain to wait. Quaithe can see where this battle will go. A better solution than she first saw it when arriving at Winterfell. From the Wolfswood, there was the trench, then a fortification, follow by a trench again. There was the calvary, followed by the next fortification being manned by the forces where the trebuchets and catapults were. Lastly, the final trench before the Winterfell being the city's defense.

All they need was time.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah sat on his horse on the west side of the calvary line; the Dothraki were there while on the east side was the Knights of the Vale and the Fiery Hand. Jorah observed up ahead towards the dark mass of the unknown. His heart was pacing; it has been a long time since he was in a battle like this. This was not like Robert's Rebellion at the Tridents. Or the siege of Pyke. No, his opponents were mortal men. Now he was facing death once more as he did beyond the Wall. He glanced up, seeing the dragons flying by. Drogon was almost camouflaging into the night sky, Rhaegal slightly there, while Viserion was visible.

His hand rested on his heart, where the necklace was still there. Jorah intended to return the pearl pendant to Alysanne. However, with everything that was going on, he kept forgetting until now. Now he has to make sure to survive in order to return it to Alysanne. So many thoughts were stirring in his head. After this battle, there will be another battle in King's Landing. It truly depends on their numbers and will the Dragon Sisters have an interest in their conquest. A thought about the Veil slithers into his mind. He thought about a simple life. Alysanne and he, owning a trading company in Braavos with their son. A dream that could have been true if it weren't for this fated battle.

Jorah took a deep breath.

A whimper caught his attention as Jorah stared at his left, seeing Ghost. The white direwolf nodded to him before looking ahead. Jorah sighed as he did the same again. They will finally know when the attack will happen once the torches from the first fortification go out and the trebuchets and catapults launch. The field was on fire from the countless pits; in the end, Jorah asked himself, is it enough.

Silence.

Horses were snorting.

The wind whistling.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Jorah stared at his left, seeing a lone rider coming in. Once the rider was close, it was the unnamed shadowbinder who has been accompanying Quaithe. Jorah couldn't remember her name as the shadowbinder came closer. She stopped in front of him and removed her mask, revealing to be Melisandre. He had not met her personally, but her description told all.

Melisandre stared at the Dothraki, "Do you speak their tongue?"

Jorah nodded.

"Tell them to lift their swords," Melisandre said.

Jorah stared at her with caution before telling the men to raise their arakhs into the air. Qhono, Aggo, and Kovarro were confused at first but were the first to raise their arakhs. Melisandre came over in front of the three as she grasped onto Kovarro's arakh. She began chanting in High Valyrian, praying to the Lord of Light to ignite their weapons. To give all of the blades fire. Immediately, like a spark, the arakh was consumed in fire. A wave of fire consumed the entire cavalry and the Fiery Hand. Everyone was shocked, never seeing this before. The Dothraki cheered in excitement, bellowing they have the upper hand. On the west side, the Fiery hand had raised their blades, and theirs too was on fire.

Everyone watched in amazement. Seeing magic being performed before them. Quaithe nodded, knowing the magic is strong tonight.

Jorah nodded to Melisandre in gratitude for her assistance. Melisandre nodded as she led her horse as the men open the gate to the second fortification where the soldiers waited. She crossed, as the doors shut behind her. She passed crossing paths with Grey Worm delivering a message.

"_Valar Morghulis."_

_"Valar Dohaeris,"_ Grey Worm replied.

Ser Davos watched from above seething with anger to realize Melisandre has been here in Winterfell all this time. She had remained silent, hiding behind a mask and scarf. Only Quaithe had spoken for her on her behalf. Ser Davos could never forgive what Melisandre did to House Baratheon, more important to Shireen. Yet, he told the men to open the gate and let her in as he went down to confront her.

Both have met in the middle as Ser Davos glared at her.

Melisandre merely smiled as if greeting an old friend, "There's no need to execute me, Ser Davos. I'll be dead before the dawn."

Ser Davos biting back his pride, nodded leading the way.

As Melisandre walked up the ramp, she stared at Quaithe, who nodded in approval.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

The dragons landed on the nearest mountain watching over the battlefield. King Snow, Daenerys, and I observed, seeing the Dothraki and Fiery Hands weapons were on fire. Basically, the legend of Azor Ahai reborn once again in the mass numbers of warriors. The air has grown colder, so cold we could see our breaths and the chill numbing any skin exposed. I removed the visor off my helmet to see better and glanced at my companions.

"Will this work?" Daenerys whispered.

"It's better than what I saw years ago," I replied.

Daenerys nodded, slightly relieved. However, the nightmare I had in Meereen is about to come true as I could see the heart tree surrounded by the fires of the castle walls. And standing next to me was King Snow, the man who held my brother's face. I pray to the Seven that the dream those years ago doesn't come true. That I died falling to my death. Unless my training is leading up to it.

_Aim for the heart_

That is was Visenya and Bran keep telling me.

_Aim for the heart._

"How many do you think are down there?" Daenerys whispered.

"More or less than us," King Snow whispered.

We continued to watch and wait. All we could hear was the Dothraki battle cry waiting for the attack, waiting for the ultimate battle—a battle for the living and the dead.

As we watch, I noticed some movement in the darkness. It was like staring at black water during a late night out in the ocean. A rippling effect of small waves. I gestured this to King Snow and Daenerys, who observed this, seeing several of the torches nears the Wolfswood being knocked down. This gave the signal to the volunteers who maintained the first fortification. Winterfell received the notice and shouted orders to the Unsullied to fire the trebuchets and catapults to throw the burning projectiles. From above, we saw a dozen projectiles fly across into the darkness, crashing onto the enemy. A distant shriek could be heard. Over and over the projectiles were fired into the darkness.

My breathing became ragged, nerves dancing as we watch fire consume and the projectiles crushing the wights. We can see where they are, through the sections where the projectiles strike, before being extinguished. Until spotting gigantic mass that the flames revealed. There was something massive down there — an enormous tall creature. My eyes widened and turned to King Snow. He did not mention giants!

Daenerys saw this as she was about to leave for Drogon, but King Snow stopped her, "Wait."

"You never mentioned giants," she growled.

"Trust me," King Snow pleaded.

We heard a soft echoing of a bang, the first trench that was filled with dragon glass and now illuminated was currently filled with wights, piling up that they were stepping over their fallen, reaching over the first fortification. The giants, two as it seems, grabbed their clubs and began banging on it. The Unsullied continued to fire the projectiles getting as much as they could. The moment they run out of projectiles was the moment the first fortification came down.

I inhale sharply, knowing it will be the calvary's turn to go. My heart was racing, knowing Jorah was down there. I desperately tried to think positively. Knowing Jorah had encountered the wights before barely two months ago. But it doesn't stop the fact the man I love is down there.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah saw the first fortification fall. The Tarly archers started firing the arrows with obsidian tips.

The Dothraki and calvary waited until the wights cross the second trench; they do not attack. They could hear the shrieks and screams of the wights falling into the trenches being impaled by the chevals. The cheval de frisa masked in the darkness, only to be filled and the spikes of the trenches.

The first and second defenses were now down. Jorah nodded to the Dothraki to start the charge. On the other side, the Knights of the Vale and the Fiery Hand charged as well. Arrows were flying over to the sky; every part of the field has been calculated that the calvary wouldn't get struck by an arrow.

Jorah looked to his tight, seeing Kovarro and Aggo, men who have been by the Dragon Sisters side since the beginning then looked to his other shoulder where Ghost ran beside him. He could hear the screaming of battle cries all around. He held onto Heartsbane tightly, no longer feeling the weight of the sword. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins, burning hot that the frozen chill and wind hardly bother him.

Closer the calvary charged, seeing through the masses of darkness precipitating to burning decay flesh crawling over the trench. A thousand being trampled by countless dead souls with blue eyes. Almost like a nocturnal animal in the night. There still wasn't enough light from the small firepits. So, praying to the old gods, Jorah swung Heartsbane into the night, making contact with a wight's head, decapitating it.

All around swords, arakhs, and spears conquered the wights in their wake. They had the advantage, despite the first fortification coming down, and the first trench filled, it had slowed the wights that allowed the calvary to have the advantage. The flaming arakhs gave them the advantage. The wights screaming and shrieking the moment the flames come into contact.

Jorah panted, seeing Ghost thrashing and dismembering his prey when all of a sudden, the air grew colder. All the warmth from the adrenaline seemed to vanish despite the fear and energy Jorah felt. From the limited lighting the burning wights gave, the air suddenly became stagnant like water that turned stale. Dense, the air became to the point it was impossible to see one's breath. Cold as ice and compact, that the fires on the burning were dwelling.

Suddenly, a gust of wind howled through the field. One that was compared to a hurricane, almost knocking Jorah off his horse. He steadies his steed, pulling on the reins until spotting the flaming arakhs were going out. Realizing the Dothraki were at a disadvantage since their arakhs are made out of standard steel, not Valyrian or obsidian. Cursing, he had no choice but to give the order for the men to retreat.

They needed the light, and the fire was dying on the calvary field.

Knowing it is every man for himself, Jorah continued his order to retreat, as he galloped back to Winterfell. Those who heard or realized the situation followed suit. They need to get through the second fortification before they close the gate.

Jorah slashes and hacked his way through the wights. He struggled to breathe from the cold air. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Aggo being picked up by a giant and tore in half. His eyes widen in bewilderment, seeing a comrade die in such a way. He forced himself to look ahead, rushing back to the third part of the field as he crossed the open gate where the Unsullied and united people of Westeros were.

As he crossed through, he spotted Ser Barristan.

However, his horse was still on the run, unable to stop.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

At first, the calvary had the advantage. We watched as the wights were being held back. They could barely make a quarter of the way through the calvary field. The Dothraki and Knights of the Vale trampling down and burring their corps with ease. Based on the echoing cries from the enemy, it should have been enough to summon the Night King.

However, he did not come.

Not yet.

Until the air grew cold that we could not see our breath. Despite the amount of furs and wools we wore, up on the mountain ridge, the air became dense and crisp at the same time. All of that changed when an unexpected wind that came from the north washed over, flooding the calvary.

We could barely see the exact details. I wanted to use a dragon spell to connect my sight to Viserion to see what is going on. However, I needed to be careful with dragon magic, for it was draining. So, Daenerys, King Snow, and I stared down below, watching the burning arakhs singed into nothingness. Comparing it to a flame on a match, burning away till nothing remains.

Basically, we had watched the end of the Dothraki.

My heart dropped, clenching on the Targaryen Sword's pommel.

_Jorah,_ I thought in fear.

My eyes water, except the arctic air, prevented the tears from falling.

_Focus on the plan__,_ Visenya barked in my head.

Daenerys snapped out of it and turned to leave. King Snow stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"The Night King is coming," he said.

Daenerys yanked her arm away, "The dead are already here."

"Daenerys," King Snow pleaded.

"Let her go," I told him. "She needs to separate the wights from the men."

Daenerys nodded, appreciating it, even though she was trying to be strong.

King Snow was about to argue, when Daenerys cut him off, "No. We will not listen to you just because you are our nephew."

King Snow tensed when Daenerys said that. Daenerys eyes widen as she glanced at me. I stood there, thankful for my helmet to mask the majority of my face. Nephew. So, my speculation was correct, Jon Snow is Rhaegar's son as I could see the fearful expression Rhaegar held in the Veil on Jon's face. So much needed to be talked about, but now is not the time to argue.

"Alys- "Daenerys started.

"Now's not the time, go," I told her.

Daenerys hesitated and nodded as she ran over to Drogon and immediately flew down onto the battlefield. By this point, the archers have stopped firing the arrows what remaining calvary men have crossed the fortification and locked the gates, or made it around it. In the end, the last fortification and Drogon are keeping the enemy away from the living.

"Your Grace," Jon spoke out.

I did not respond as I continue to look at him.

"Alysanne…" he stopped himself. "You must understand…"

"I had my suspicions you were of blood," I said.

His eyes widen.

"The moment you entered the throne room, I thought I was staring at my brother," I continued turning around to watch the battle.

"Alysanne," he whispered.

"We will talk about it later," I ended the conversation. "Let's focus on the Great War."

Jon only nodded as he stared onto the battlefield.

**.o0o.**

_The Battlefield._

_Ser Barristan's POV_

Ser Barristan stood beside the Reach and Stormlanders on the east side. The gate for the fortification was open, only to be closed immediately. Ser Barristan watched in how many of the Dothraki came barging in with terror in their eyes. Some even run in on foot. The barricade doors forced to be shut as everyone stood there, listening to the deathly cries of the fallen being trampled by the enemy.

And then silence.

A god-awful feeling as Death grazed over in the wind. The chills taking form as frost crept on the warriors' armor. The gambesons and furs, barely keeping anyone warm as they stared at the previous line of defense. The fire illuminating from the torches while on the other side was darkness.

Silence.

Utter silence.

And then it happened:

Bang.

A loud thud was coming from the massive barricade. Follow by another thud, and another, building up to an orchestrated of pounding on the fortification. Within the pounding, there were the indistinctive sounds, practically animistic, if not demonic. Over and over, until the wood of the fortification started to yield, waving like a tree bending to the wind.

Ser Barristan knew what was about to happen as he stared at Ser Gareth. The Stormlander nodded as they drew their weapons. Dark Sister somehow warmed Ser Barristan's hands, feeling the dragon's fire bringing life into his veins. There was one fear, Ser Barristan the Bold despised. And that was dying an uneventful life. He has fought in many wars, serving many Targaryens over his years. It all started from a joust against Prince Duncan Targaryen, next to the War of the Ninepenny Kings, then the Usurpers Rebellion, and lastly, the Greyjoy Rebellion. Where he spent nearly eighteen years of his life watching life fade away. The jousting did not settle his need to fight for a cause. As the years passed, Barristan did not want to die in his bed. Until he searched for the Dragon Sisters, they brought purpose back into his life.

Barristan will always remember Alysanne as the little girl trapped inside the tower. All alone with her brother, unless her niece came to visit. A girl born on a day of execution. A life from death. Now, she flies above, breaking the traditions society has made along with Daenerys. Over the handful of years, Ser Barristan saw the girls as his own daughters. And he was willing to fight and protect his daughters.

"Brace yourselves!" Ser Barristan ordered.

"Swords ready!" Ser Gareth added. "Shields up!"

Ser Barristan glanced over to the Unsullied, hearing Grey Worm, telling his men to get into position. They were the next line of defense. It was their turn to fight for the living.

Bang.

Bang.

Crack!

The gates that the fortifications had collapsed, as a surge of wights charged in. The massive numbers of wights piled on that they climbed over the fortification as well. Shield and sword in hand, Ser Barristan was ready for the attack. A swarm of wasp charging in for the kill. Not even five seconds, the dead charged in rapidly and desperate to kill. With a swing of Dark Sister, the sword sliced through a wight with ease. The monster giving a crystalize shriek before falling to the ground. Having no time to marvel at the kill, he continues slashing and fighting.

Overwhelmed and swarmed by the enemy.

The wights continued onward, wrapping themselves around the living and straight forward. The center was going straight through knives, daggers, swords, and skeletal hands trammeling over the Unsullied to reach the main gate. The Unsullied stood their ground, their shields having an obsidian spike center penetrating those who dare ram themselves in for death. If not, the spears with dragon glass tips stabbing the leapers and chargers. The Unsullied held their ground. If one of the Cut Brothers falls, another rush in to take his place.

They were trained for this type of battle and prepared to fight the Dothraki. Now it was time to put their training to the test—eight-thousand men guarding Winterfell. Despite the fact, they were mistreated by the Northerners. They believe everyone deserved to live and protect the innocent. By Queen Alysanne's command, they were chosen to save the living. So, standing tall, facing the countless wights, they will protect the living.

The fortification had limited the number of Wights from bargaining into that of a tsunami wave. However, the more that came barging through the gates and climbing over never stopped them. The mortals managed, but they knew it would never end on this night. Time seemed to vanish, as death surrounds you. The cries of the fallen and the demonic screeching from the wights filled the air.

Ser Barristan continued to fight. Blocking the wights while fighting his way through them. Dark Sister was illuminating in the rare torches that provided light. The Damascus was rippling like flames, cutting down each wight. Each and every single impact brought the wights down like dragon glass. Only it took slightly longer than obsidian did when penetrating the dead.

Over and over, the wights surrounded him. All were wanting to kill Ser Barristan the Bold. However, by his given nickname, he did not yield. Tiredness lingers, the need to rest stirred him, but the adrenaline kept Barristan awake. Suddenly a wight with a war hammer came up. He was massive, a Thenn rampaging over to strike the knight down. Ser Barristan brought his shield up, and the Dead Thenn hit on it. The impact vibrated the shield and into Ser Barristan's arm, almost knocking him down. The knight tried to strike again, yet the Dead Thenn had more mobility struck again, knocking Ser Barristan down.

Still keeping the shield up, Ser Barristan tried to get up, yet the Dead Thenn kept banding on it. Over and over, denting the massive shield. It won't be long before the shield gives in and shatter the knight's arm. Just about for the final strike, the Dead Thenn shrieked collapsing to the ground. Ser Barristan glanced over his shield to see it was Ser Jorah on his horse had returned back to battle. Ser Barristan nodded in thanks before getting up.

That was when Drogon flew over and breathed fired on their side near the fortification, decreasing the number of wights on their side. Both men watched amazed, seeing dragon fire so close, destroying their enemy. Daenerys had Drogon turned around, and on the enemy, the line began to burn the Wights. Over and over again, working hard to limit their forces.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

_Now's the time,_ Visenya whispered. _He is near._

As a vision clouded my eyes to see where he was. Up in the sky, hidden amongst the cloud, was the Night King and the Ice Dragon. The Ice Dragon was massive, larger than Drogon. Even though made of ice, its wings flapped in the sky, cracking over and over and over again. A swarm of ravens surrounded him, as the Night King ignored the blackbirds and focused down below waving his hands.

The vision then changed back to the ground on the forest line. On decaying horses, there were the Wight Walkers. They stood there, watching the battle being unfolded. They were seeing Drogon flying over, incinerating their army. They express with no care or interest. Waiting. They were waiting for the Night King.

A thought accrued by the chain of command. Let alone, Jon mentioning the White Walkers were the generals the Night King made himself from the discarded sons of Craster. If the Night King technically adopted the orphan sons to be his own, then there should be an instinct to protect them. There is one way to find out.

Nodding to myself, I made my way over to Viserion.

"Where are you going," Jon asked.

"He's here," I told him.

"And how do you know that?" Jon asked.

"Because I had a vision," I answered. "He's not going to join the battle. He's hiding in the sky. We have to draw him out."

Jon nodded as we rushed to our dragons. I made sure to secure the harness to Viserion's saddled before taking off to the sky. The air was much colder than it was on the ground. Yet, the dragons continued onward, heading towards north towards the Wolfswood, flying over the wights waiting for the kills. They stood there lifeless, staring ahead. Jon had Rhaegal breathe fire, destroying the wights on the way. I did the same the Viserion; our souls entwined as he breathed fire on the dead.

We soon reached the forest line where the White Walkers waited. Scowling at them, I held onto Viserion's spikes and yelled, "_Dracarys_!" Viserion pulled his head back, taking a deep breath to melt the generals when a gust of wind blew over. It almost knocked Viserion down, yet he held on. I looked up to see a storm rushing in. A tempest, no, a blizzard storming its wave engulfing the battlefield.

I held onto Viserion tightly, the clouds consuming us as snow and hail wrapped around. The White Walkers were vanishing in grey and darkness. I glanced around, seeing Jon and Rhaegal had disappeared as well. Cursing, I tried to keep control, focusing on finding the Night King. If we can destroy him, then the battle will be done.

I have to do this.

I have to destroy the Night King.

The past five years of my training has been about this war.

So, with a deep breath, I whispered the dragon spell, "_Skulblakas ven,"_

Pressure could be felt around my eyes as my sight sharpens. Only I did not see Viserion's neck and head. No, I was staring through Viserion's eyes. Seeing the world as he saw it. We were entirely in sync as we tried to find the Night King in this storm.

.**o0o**.

_Jorah's POV_

After saving Ser Barristan, and seeing Daenerys coming down on Drogon incinerating the enemy, Jorah and the remaining cavalry fought against the forces. At first, it was a struggle with everyone moving, telling the dead and the wildling apart. Fortunately, the wights had glowing blue eyes, making it easier to tell them apart. So, in the charge, Jorah swung Heartsbane destroying wights in his wake.

He saw one in a small opening and charged his horse to kill it. Heartsbane swung down with ease and decapitated the wight, hearing a brief shriek for a second before the body fell to the ground. Jorah continued onward when all of a sudden, another rider collided into him. The impact thrust his horsed down, knocking him over. Jorah ignored the ache, forced himself up quickly with Heartsbane in hand.

That was when he noticed the sky was getting darker as snow fell from the sky. He looked up, seeing a supernatural storm barging in, engulfing everyone in a dense fog, unable to see ten feet in front of him. Snarls and growls surrounded Jorah, men and women shrieking from losing their sight they had before.

Unable to yield, Ser Jorah continued to fight. In the chaos, he was with Ser Barristan, Ser Gareth, and other knights forming a circle to protect themselves while slashing the enemy to bits. Although Jorah glanced up, there were flashes of fire, resembling lighting up ahead. Seeing one, has Jorah assume it was Daenerys, blindly having Drogon burning the dead on the enemy line.

However, he could not see Viserion or Rhaegal. Jon and Alysanne? For a moment, he heard another dragon roar, before the storm brushed over. Are the two now in the sky searching for the Night King or are they still in the mountains, waiting for him. Jorah was hoping for the latter. Thankful for the dragons to keep his love safe.

He had to live and fight for the living. There was so much to live for. His friends, his family, his lover. All his cynic behavior was gone. There was so much to live for, and he will not die here.

Soon everyone was pulling back. The blizzard was against them, and it was wise to get back on the other side of the last trench to separate them from the wights—a moment to breathe and regroup. Jorah shouted in Dothraki for the Blood riders to retreat. Everyone ran, fleeing back to Winterfell. Countless warriors were running back.

Jorah looked overseeing the Unsullied remained in the phalanx. He wonders how the Masters could strip away fear and have them emotionlessly fight straight on. Yet the Unsullied grunted, slowly, they stepped back as each row followed the command to retreat except for the first four rows. The ones who volunteer to operate the front line. Jorah wished he could be brave to face death so quickly.

Now's not the time to hold back, as he ran across the draw bridge with Ser Barristan, manning it as they got the men to run over with one of three bridges. The soldiers of the Reach, Stormlanders, and Dothraki ran across, getting to their places.

Once everyone on the east side made it in. Ser Barristan and Jorah grabbed the rope, giving a yanked hard with all their might, collapsing the bridge, transfiguring it to a chevals in the trench.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

Ignoring the weight from the spell, I continue to watch through Viserion's vision to search for the Night King. In the vast sky of dark grey, we could make out the trees and mountains. I had Viserion fly higher, so he wouldn't collide into them. Jon was still missing yet; I can faintly hear Rhaegal's snarls and grunts.

A loud noise of crashing caught my attention. Viserion tried to grasp where it was coming from. When all of a sudden, a dark mass collided into us. It snapped me out of the spell, my sight returning to my body. In a daze, I saw the dragon of the same size, realizing it was Rhaegal. Jon was still on him, holding on tightly. We were both blinded. We managed to recover from the impact and reconnected with the dragons.

"We need to go higher," I yelled.

Sadly, my voice died in the wind, unable to reach Jon. Relying on the dragons' senses, we stayed together, holding on while searching for the Night King. Looking down, the trees were bowing to the wind. All around was like a hurricane. Impossible to see clearly. All our senses were drowning in the cold. The hail was rattling my armor and wind whistling in my ear that I could barely hear.

All my senses were gone, all except feeling cold.

Another gale of wind-tossed us around, and once more, I lost sight of Jon.

Cursing, I ordered Viserion to go higher.

"Alysanne!" was a faint sound of Jon.

However, the winds and snow made it impossible to see where he was.

**.o0o.**

_Winterfell_

"Open the gate!" Lyanna ordered as the men shouted for entrance.

The Men from Bear Island rushed in lifting the barricade and opening the doors to allow the men in. Lyanna stepped on a wagon, getting out of the way seeing men storming in for sanctuary. Escarping the harsh winds from the blizzard. She could see Lady Brienne, Ser Jamie, Ser Barristan, and Jorah stepping to the side, yelling and pushing the men to get inside. The wounded limping their way, being dragged inside. The injured were rushed to the Small Hall, where a medical center has been set up.

Meanwhile...

Grey Worm stared ahead; the first battle row was gone, trampled by the wights. The Unsullied were in charge of protecting the main gate on the north side.

"Protect the retreat!" Grey Worm ordered. "Stand your ground!"

The Unsullied grunted in response, keeping their spears and shields up. The Unsullied watched as the Suicide Lines were trampled down, and the dead pushing them backward. They manned the line, spears out. Those who were behind the front line drew their short obsidian swords, and tabbed between the gaps over and under the shields, getting every wight that crawled or leaped over.

Upon the battlement of Winterfell, Ser Davos stood there with Quaithe, Lord Randyll, and Dickon watching the living retreat. At the same time, the Unsullied continued to stand guard. Lord Randyll, kept having his archers fire the arrows aiding the Unsullied the best they could. Dickon remained standing there, observing all the chaos that is happening right now. That was when Dickon saw one of the dragon's fly overhead and landed on one of the towers. It was not black or gold, but the green one.

Jon had no choice but to retreat from the Wolfswood. Rhaegal perched himself on one of the towers as he looked around, seeing the retreat at hand. Off in the distance, Daenerys still had Drogon casting fire on the enemy side of the battlefield, blindly burning them. Jon was pleased by Daenerys's commitment, and hopes she stays safe. He had so many thoughts about what had been said on the mountain. Jon felt like an idiot for telling Daenerys about his parentage. He should have waited until after the battle to tell her, or better yet not at all. When Daenerys in her rage blurted out his secret, Alysanne remained calm. As if she already knew. Jon shook his head; he needed to focus on the battle.

Back at the ground, The Unsullied were being pushed back. The retreat was still going, yet the Unsullied can't hold them back for much longer. They were soon reaching the chevals de fise, and if they pushed forward, they would be impaled. Having no choice, Grey Worm started ordering each row from the back to retreat. It wasn't long before his row, retreated back. He stared ahead, seeing ten rows of his men were still up ahead. When it comes to five, he has no choice but to collapse the bridge.

Grey Worm was Unsullied. He was trained not to feel. However, the men were his brothers. He has trained and fought alongside his brothers since he was five years old. Now, as their leader with his hands on the rope, he has to sever the ties and let his brothers fight to the death.

He looked up at the wall and yelled, "Light the trench! Light the trench!"

Ser Davos and Dickon heard him as they grabbed the torches and started waving them in the air to get Daenerys' attention.

Grey Worm panted, watching his brothers being pushed back or killed on the front line. He continued to yell, "Light the trench." However, Daenerys was now coming over. She was still lost in the storm, blinding the enemy from behind. Having no choice, and praying to the Lady of Spears, for she forgives, Grey Worm, yanked the rope, collapsing the bridge to become a cheval. The spikes decorated with shards of obsidian sticking out.

Ser Davos and Dickon continued to wave the torches.

The battlefield had disappeared in the blizzard.

"She can't see us," Ser Davos noted, tossing the torches down and walked over to the ledge ordering the men to light the trenches.

Several men grabbed the torches and rushed out to light the trenches. Over dozens of wight had made it over and tackled them down, stabbing them repeatedly.

"Fire burning arrows!" Lord Randyll ordered, as the Tarly force, fired arrows that were on fire.

The moment the arrows struck the spikes, the blizzard winds would extinguish them like a candle. The last fortification came tumbling down, and a swarm of Wights rushed in, tackling the remaining Unsullied. Grey Worm panted, removing his helmet, seeing many men trying to light the trench. It was failing until Grey Worm turned around to see Melisandre standing there waiting. She nodded at him.

Knowing this woman ignited the Dothraki arakhs, there is a chance she could do the same. So, gathering his men, Grey Worm had the Unsullied get into formation to the entrance towards the trench. They guarded as Melisandre rushed over and kneels at the trench, chanting in high Valyrian to light the trench. Over and over, she prayed to the Lord of Light to illuminate the trench.

Meanwhile, Jon noticed Daenerys was still lost on the battlefield. He assumed she couldn't see the torches from her distance. Realizing this part of the plan was compromised, Jon got Rhaegal back in the air and started to breathe fire onto the trench.

The moment Rhaegal flames made contact with the trench and Melisandre's chanting for the last time, a gulf of fire consumed the trench. The flames swam to that of a flood, swirling all around Winterfell. The fires reaching high into the sky, with tendril sticking out burning wights were who were near. Both dragon fire and the Lord of Light's power burning the enemy away.

The soldiers who stood outside of Winterfell watched seeing the Wights stopped, stepping away from the flames. A moment later, they stood there, watching the living with those icy blue eyes.

"Archers, fire!" Lord Randyll ordered.

All around the northside of Winterfell, the Tarly forces fired many rounds of arrows. Even with the burning trench, they still had the opportunity to eliminate the wights as they stood.

Ser Barristan and Jorah watched this amazed, seeing the fires serving them once again. Jorah panted as he started at the sky, having a better view of Daenerys and Drogon, still burning the enemy. At the same time, Rhaegal returned back to the tower. However, Alysanne was still missing. Fearful, wondering where she was, he went back inside Winterfell and search for the one person who may know.

Quaithe was coming down the steps when Jorah spotted her. He rushed over, a hand on her arm, and led her into the stable. Quaithe was quite calmed even though her arm will bruise later on.

"Jorah the Andal," she murmured.

"Where is Alysanne?" Jorah roughly demanded.

Not testing him, Quaithe gazed into his eyes, using her clairvoyant abilities to see where Alysanne was. Jorah watched her with panicked, praying that no harm has come to Alysanne. After a moment, Quaithe blinked a few times and looked at him.

"She is lost in the storm," Quaithe said. "Being pursued as we speak."

Jorah's eyes widen, she was out in the storm being chased by the Night King.

"Does she know?" he asked.

"She can sense him, but he will not attack her, not yet." Quaithe answered. "You must be ready for when the time comes to look for her."

"What do you mean?" he asked again.

"When the moment comes, she will be lost, afraid, and fading. You must always be there when it happens." Quaithe answered in riddles. "I must go."

Jorah assumed she meant the Great Hall, where the women and children were or the Small Hall that was being used as the infirmary. However, that is not what she meant. Jorah escorted her, yet she made her way to a small abandoned room. There on the ground was wax runes and the Obsidian candle in the middle.

"What are you planning?" Jorah asked.

"I am a Shadowbinder, Jorah the Andal," she replied calmly. "And tonight, there are many shadows I can use."

She had her back to him as she knelt on the runes and placed her hand over the candle. She started to sing another language, it was not Valyrian, although it sounded older, much ancient than western civilization. The intense atmosphere of death turns solemn, as the Asshai'i began to sing the ancient language. It reminded Jorah of Miri Maz Duur, however, that which was not a pure Asshai'i. Quaithe, born from the borders of Asshai and trained in the practice of Shadow binding, was considered the purest of the Asshai'i as her magical manipulated all-around before her shadow rushed out of the room.

Whatever dark magic Quaithe was doing, Jorah knew it is to aid the living. The room had no window, with a few candles lit. Wanting to protect the woman, he closed the door and shoved decorative wardrobe to block it.

Jorah took a deep breath and returned to the battle.

**.o0o.**

Back outside, the living on the wall observed the wights. The archers continued to shoot arrows, eliminating as many wights as possible. Until Ser Davos and Arya spotted a few were walking into the fire. The wights simply stepped forward, falling in and died by the burning flames. Not a shriek or screaming released from their rotten lips.

Ser Davos had a bad feeling about it and looked at Ser Barristan, who has joined them and Lord

Randyll noticed this as well. This was not good. The wights that were falling in were piling up, creating several walkways for the Army of the Undead to step forward.

"Man the walls!" Ser Davos ordered.

The men who were outside the battlement got into formation. Meanwhile, the archers continued to fire the arrows. All around, the order to "Man the walls!" echoed throughout Winterfell. Lady Lyanna even passed around the order telling the soldiers to man the wall. As the living inside Winterfell took up position on the wall, the ones outside started to attack the wights that began to storm in. The soldiers limited the numbers from the small openings, slashing and stabbing with their swords and other weapons.

Back on top, Dickon ordered the men to pour the pitch. The black oily substance was poured along the walls, making them slippery to climb. Other parts soaked in flammable oil, as men with torches wait to light them.

Jorah, who heard this, saw Sam standing there confused. He rushed over, grabbing Sam, "Get out there! Get moving!"

They rushed into position, for when the arrows run out, it will be another fight.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

I can sense him following us. The Night King was on our trail, and yet he was not attacking. The sounds of the Ice Dragons winds echoing out through the wind. I thought it was best to keep them away from Winterfell. To lead them through the mountain gorge and attack from above. At first, it worked; the Night King followed in the curvy gorges.

They continued to follow as the mountains suffocated the space around us. Taking this as my opportunity, I had Viserion swooped up to the sky, flipping around them and yelled _Dracarys_! Viserion inhaled and blew fire at them. The ice dragon shriek as his tale caught fire before crashing into a mountain.

Not risking it, I had Viserion make another fire attack. Blindly we soar down leaving a trail of fire over the crash site, before going back into the air. We hover over them, watching waiting to see what will happen. Wondering if the Ice Dragon has been defeated, separating it from the Night King.

Once the smoke was cleared, the Ice Dragon laid there still. Although I remained cautious, never knowing if it is actually dead. Never trust an animal at first glance. Viserion hovered over, his nostrils flaring sniffing for life. The Ice Dragon remained still. It was difficult to see if it was breathing or where the Night King was.

Just to be sure, I was about to say, "_Dracarys_."

When all of a sudden, the Ice Dragon snapped its head and blew blue fire. The attack startled us that Viserion on instinct tried to dodge it. A roar echoed out as the Ice Dragon took the sky, heading back to Winterfell. I cursed, chasing after it, spotting the Night King on his back.

In the chase, I could feel my throat was dry. An indication Viserion was not ready to go for another round of fire. I cursed as we continued to chase after them. It was a mere minute when arriving at Winterfell, seeing all of the battlefield defenses have been demolished except for the last trench, and Daenerys attempts to burn the wights on the battlefield.

The Ice Dragon hovered over Winterfell.

I was confused until it went back into the storm with Rhaegal right after him. Cursing once more,

I followed after them.

**.o0o.**

_Winterfell_

The archers ran out of arrows. There were no more leaving the living to man the wall. Lord Randyll orders the soldiers to relieve the archers, who scurry to make their way to their next position of throwing projectiles on the battlement's towers. Jorah, with Sam, rushed to one of the posts, looking over the soldiers, see the ground men being surrounded or ignored entirely.

The wights practically ignored the foot soldiers and headed straight on towards Winterfell's city battlement. They piled on top of each other, creating a hill, climbing over each decaying body to get closer to the top. Areas were oil was spilled were ignited, burning certain spots. Areas covered in pitch, became slippery, that the wights were slipping down. Except, several weak spots don't have pitch or burning oil.

"Hold the wall!" the generals yelled.

Jorah held Heartsbane stood ready at the battlement, staring down at the embrasures. Minutes go by, as the wights crawled their way in through the embrasures. Jorah swung Heartsbane killing the wight and knocking it down. Everyone was at each embrasure using their Valyrian swords or obsidian weapons to take the wights down. At first, it seemed easy, until the numbers were piling up.

It wasn't long when there was a breach, wights already getting on the battlement. Jorah stabbed one in the head, yanking Heartsbane back and looked around, seeing wights on his side of the wall. He cursed, fighting his way through until spotting Sam being tackled by a couple of wights. Jorah rushed over and slashed the two creatures in the back, destroying it. Sam panted, nodding his thanks to Jorah. They turned around, seeing Grey Worm with his shield up. They were being pushed down into the courtyard.

The two breached areas were swarmed by wights, climbing up and dropping into the courtyard. The men fought, the smoke and stormbound making their vision challenging to see. Already the men were tired, yet they continue on fighting.

**.o0o.**

_Lyanna's POV_

The wights were jumping from the battlement filling the courtyard. Lyanna's guard surrounded her, trying to keep their Lady safe. There was a pounding on the main gate, louder than the usual wights. It only took several poundings before the massive door burst open, and a rotten giant crawled in.

The giant being as tall as the battlement came in. It got up, running towards them, swinging his mace all around, crushing every soldier in sight. Lyanna gasped, trying to get away, only to be smacked across the courtyard. She roughly landed on hay, banging her head on a wagon during impact. She groaned; her head was spinning as blood seeped from her forehead, her ribs hurting.

She leaned up, holding her side, seeing the giant making his way towards here. Kicking the chevals aside and stomping on her men like bugs. Needing to save her men, she forced herself up, panting through the pain, and drew her obsidian hatchet. Lyanna gave a battle scream, charging towards the giant. All she needed to do it get the dragon glass to stab through the rotten flesh to kill it.

The giant heard her, turning around grabbing the Lady of Bear Island his grip was tight, adding pressure to her armor to crack. Lyanna gasped, only having one arm free as she started at the giant's decaying face. This was it; this was her end. She tried to think of a way to stop it before he crushed her to death or worse eat her.

"Hey!" shouted a voice.

The giant looked down, Lyanna did as well, seeing Jorah standing there with Grey Worm and Sam. They've surrounded the giant with their weapons trying to defeat the monster to let Lyanna go. The giant lifted his leg, trying to stomp on them. Grey Worm noticed Sam was about to be stomped, lunged over pushing the man away. Jorah took the moment of distraction, and swung Heartsbane at the giant's calves, slicing through leather and furs before cutting through flesh. However, since the giant wight had a better constitution than to that of a human wight, he did not die immediately. He only collapsed onto one knee.

Lyanna being able to grab her obsidian dagger, took hold of it and stabbed the giant in the eye. The giant gave a deafening shriek before disintegrating on the ground. Lyanna cried as she fell, crashing onto the ground. Jorah rushed over to her seeing if she was alive. She was, however, severely injured. Knowing she wouldn't survive on this battlefield, Jorah apologized and picked her up. Grey Worm and several Unsullied saw this, as they cover him, to take the lady somewhere safe.

Except the gate was open, and dozens of wights barged into the courtyard. They could not outrun them. The Unsullied drew their weapons, circling around the nobles. When out of nowhere, a dark slender entity slithers around the wights holding two obsidian daggers. It swirled around the wights, stabbing them in an instant. It stopped for a moment, facing them. A shadow of a woman wearing a mask. Before slithering back into battle, manding the gate. The wights were trying to stop it, yet their blade only went through them.

Lyanna looked at her cousin, who was baffled, before nodding as if he knew who the shadow figure was. Not risking the opportunity to escape, they headed towards the castle. They got inside the castle, as the Unsullied took hold of Lyanna and promised to protect her. Jorah nodded as he and Grey Worm rushed back outside into battle.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Jon and I continued to chase after the Night King. He was leading the Ice Dragon high in the sky, deep inside the blizzard. I held onto Viserion tightly, cautious in where the enemy was taking us. The moment we were about to reach him, we broke through the clouds, and he was gone.

My eyes widen, for the Night King was right in front of us. I examined our surroundings as if we were in the eye of the storm, yet the clouds were surrounding us and below us as well. There was the moon giving us lighter than it had ever before. It makes me wonder if the first Long Night was never dark, to begin with. No, the first Long Night that lasted a generation, was actually a blizzard so dense that it blocked out the sun and day.

Jon realized this as well as he glanced around, checking our surroundings. Somewhere in the clouds was the Night King, and we were in the open.

_Shit, it's a trap_, I thought, then yelled. "Jon!"

A growl could be heard below us as the blue fire came in our direction. The dragons tried to dodge the assault. The Night King appeared, the Ice Dragon opening his mouth and continues to breathe frozen fire chasing after me. Viserion swooped down, attempting to avoid the massive beast. No matter where Viserion went, the Ice Dragon was right behind us, having a better continuation to hold his frozen fire. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing how close the blue flames were—feeling the air becoming colder that it was difficult to breathe. Out of impulse, soared up and made a sharp turn escaping its chase.

However, that means the Ice Dragon turned its attention toward Rhaegal. Rhaegal made a sharp turn, costing him his flight falling a bit before recovering while the Ice Dragon disappeared into the clouds. I panted, staring at Jon, who was a hundred feet away—barely making out his silhouette from the waxing moon. Making out what appeared to be a nod, Jon had Rhaegal dive back into the clouds. I had Viserion follow him.

At first, we thought he was leading us to another location, until realizing he was heading back to Winterfell. Desperately, we rushed after him, except the moment we reach the city, the Ice Dragon breathed fire, destroying a part of the battlement and buildings. The result of the destruction allowed more wights to enter the city.

We took this distraction as we pinched around Winterfell and attacked the Ice Dragon on both sides. Rhaegal was the first to collide with the beast, sinking his talons in. A shriek could be heard, as I can barely see Rhaegal trying to bite the Ice Dragon's neck. A second later, Viserion attacked getting its other side. Viserion was trying to bite its wing. All three dragon's spiraling around, biting and slashing from one another. The dragons were roaring and shrieking. Rhaegal and Viserion had the upper hand, outnumbering it. That is until, the Ice Dragon, slashed at Rhaegal's chest, and turned its head biting towards Jon.

Viserion was still locked on the beast's wing, unable to help. Luckily, Rhaegal maneuvers his neck, and bit into the Ice Dragon's upper neck near his head. It immobilizes the opponent. I could barely make out what was happening. The world was spinning as I try to make Viserion break the wing so the enemy would crash.

Suddenly there was a burst of blue fire going everywhere. Blinding Viserion so he had no choice but to let go. Viserion caught his bearings as we looked down, seeing both Ice Dragon and Rhaegal were falling into a heated battle. Blue fire blowing everywhere, as the Ice Dragon tried to get Rhaegal's neck and Jon. I got Viserion to go after them, yet the distance was too far. I fear we won't make it.

When out of nowhere, Drogon appeared attacking the Ice Dragon, separating the two. Rhaegal fell, and Drogon shoved the Ice Dragon away. It shrieks, disappearing into the clouds. Using the Dragon sight spell, I saw for a moment, the Night King falling.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon held onto Rhaegal for dear life. Through the dragon spell that connected him to Rhaegal, he could feel the green dragon in utter agony. His chest and neck were aching, that it was hard to breathe. Unable to handle it, Jon disconnected from the spell, separating their souls. He was able to breathe, except the rapture of separation caused Rhaegal to lose focus and crash. The dragon tried to land correctly, but the speed they were falling at, was a rough landing, crashing into the snow, running to slow down, before the utter exhaustion took Rhaegal down.

Jon was tossed off into the air falling beside Rhaegal. He groaned as he landed roughly on the ground. He tried to breathe, but just like being bucked off a horse, the shock knocked the wind out of him. Ignoring the pain, he got up and drew Longclaw. The Ice Dragon was gone. He glances at Rhaegal, seeing his dragon was out for the count as he felt Rhaegal's pain through his own.

Taking a moment, Jon stood at a distance, observing the possible defeat of the Night King. He was unsure if dragon fire can defeat the Night King. Back on the expedition, dragon fire can burn a wight, so it is possible it can destroy the Night King. As Bran confirmed, the Night was once a mortal man. He was once of flesh and blood. Now made of ice and decayed flesh, along with the dragon's fire making it impossible to survive. Except with Rhaegal out of the count, Jon hopes the Dragon Sisters hurry.

There was also a backup plan. Jon had Longclaw. He had defeated two White Walkers with Longclaw. Shattered them both completely. Therefore, Jon rushed to find the Night King. He ran, holding his side, heading straight for Winterfell. The moment he got there, he caught sight of the Night King standing center of the battlefield. Above him were Viserion and Drogon. The Night King was staring at Drogon, not at all afraid.

Both dragons took a deep breath, their masters giving the command and breathed fire on the Night King. The enemy vanished within the flames. Jon limped his way over to get a better view. He was about fifty feet away from the swirling fire tornado the dragons were creating—both adding all their might to put an end to the enemy.

By the time the dragons ran out of breath, they had continued to hover over, watching the fire burn everything in its path. Jon watched, waiting, praying to the old gods and the new, that this plan works out. All the years of fighting the Army of the Dead is finally coming to an end. All his friends who died on the Wall, those who perished in the expedition, to now at Winterfell can finally rest in peace. They have finally won.

That is until a gust of wind howl over, extinguishing the flames. What should have been a charred body or even ash wasn't there. Instead, the Night King stood there, staring at Daenerys's direction. His frozen lips were turning into a deviant smile.

All three Dragon Riders stared at him in shock.

Fire cannot burn a dragon.

And it cannot defeat the Night King.

* * *

**I know, I am cruel. But I have to stop it there.**

**The spell Alysanne used is from Eragon the Move.**

**Be prepared for part two.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	85. Chapter 85: Frozen Hearts

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: Oh My God. I can't believe this guys. Sister's Keeper has reached over 1000 reviews. Thank you to everyone who has review. I truly appreciate all the reviews in making this story. **_

* * *

**Chapter 85: Frozen Hearts**

_Jon's POV_

They all stared at the Night King in pure horror. Dragon fire is supposed to be the second hottest fire in the world, compared to that of a volcano. It has burned cities to the ground, melting stone and metal. It has disintegrated trees and plants.

But most importantly, it has burned human's and turn them to ash. The Dragon Sisters have seen the power of the dragon's flame in Qarth and the Bay of Dragons. It has saved them so many times against their enemy and put their foes to bend the knee. However, the Night King stood before them, not at all impressed, with a mocking smile.

Jon couldn't see the sisters' faces. However, if the shock he held is probably the same as their bewilderment. They had hoped dragon fire could be the answer. The Night King was made from the magic of the Children. A creature of ice. While the Dragons were creatures of fire. Natural wild beings with the magic of their own. A war between Fire and Ice. The wights have burned with ease. So…why isn't it working now.

The Night King knelt to grab his spear and threw it at Drogon. Remembering the damage the last ice spear did to Viserion, Daenerys had Drogon retreat. The ice spear missing them by a foot. The Night King turned to Alysanne, raising his hand out to the golden dragon. Alysanne was about to cast a dragon spell when a roar caught their attention, and the ice dragon appeared tackling them. Viserion managed to escape its grasp; however, they were now being chased.

Jon cursed, staring at the Night King seeing the Horn of Joramun secured at the enemy's belt. There are two things Jon needed to do. He needed to end the Night King and get the horn. Therefore, he unsheathed Longclaw from its scabbard and chased after the Night King. Jon's legs were sore, his head ached, and blood cold from the winter. The smoke and blizzard made it difficult to see, yet Jon continued running towards the Night King.

The Night King had a steady pace, not rushing his time as he made his way towards Winterfell. The majority of his enemy has been eliminated from the living, barely a fifth still attacking the castle. However, the Night King still continued onward, not caring how much he has lost. He had one objective, and that was to end kill the Three-Eyed Raven.

Jon would not allow it. Bran, despite his change in character, was Jon's brother. Three-Eyed Raven or not, Bran did not deserve to die. Jon felt like he failed Bran once, five years ago. He will not fail Bran again. That motivated Jon to run faster.

He was about a hundred feet away, when the Night King stopped, turning around to face the White Wolf. Jon hesitated, wondering if the Night King will fight him here on the battlefield. A battle between them. Jon killed two of the Night King's children. He destroyed two White Walkers. Let this be revenge away from Winterfell. Although the Night King did not draw his falx, that was strapped to his back.

No, instead, he slowly spread his arms out. Jon's eyes widen, realizing what the Night King was about to do. It was the same spell he used at Hardhome. The trauma the living soldiers will deal with when they are fighting their own.

Quickly Jon ran for dear life, trying to reach the enemy before the dead has risen. Except he was too late, just thirty feet away from his target, the resurrected human soldiers surrounded the Night King. Wildlings, Northmen, Southerners, Dothraki, and Unsullied, who had fallen in the battle, stood up with blue eyes. The sound of silence engulfed the field, everyone petrified in seeing their fellow comrades rise from the dead.

The Night King stared at Jon, though emotionless, the eyes said it all. Malice and pride in winning this war. The immortal creature bowed his head as a sign of respect for the rivalry the two had. Afterward, he turned around, heading towards Winterfell, allowing his new additions to deal with Jon and the others. As the Night King was joined by his children walking in with ease.

Jon growled as he ran in for the attack reminding himself these men were dead. The wights gathered around, making the area dense for him. They were all getting too close, buzzing around like a swarm of bees. Not expecting it, fire drew down from the sky, burning the wights that were behind him. Jon looked up, seeing it was Drogon. Jon sighed in relief, glad to see the two were working together despite their differences.

Drogon landed in front of him.

"Bran!" Jon bellowed.

"Go!" Daenerys shouted.

Jon nodded as he ran after the Night King.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys watched as Jon headed inside the battlement. She wanted, praying that he can stop the Night King and end this war. Dragon fire did not work, so it has to be Valyrian steel or obsidian that can kill the Night King.

A sharp screech caught her attention as she looked up to the sky seeing Viserion and the Ice Dragon still fighting. Viserion being smaller, was able to maneuver around quickly to dodge each frozen flame. However, he was not stronger and after flying all Night, not as fast. Drogon growled, needing to help his brother. Daenerys nodded in agreement as they were about to take off to join the fight.

However, Drogon shrieked in pain.

Daenerys had made a mistake by letting Drogon land. She has made them exposed, as the resurrected wights had climbed up on the dragon's tail and began stabbing along his spine. Daenerys gasped, from the massive number of wights crawling and climbing onto Drogon. The dragon thrashed, shaking the pest off him. The force of his thrashing was powerful that it made it difficult for Daenerys to hold on.

She desperately held onto his spikes as the dragon tried to take off thinking once they were in the air, the wights will let go. In the end, it did not work. The wights continued to crawl and stab their way to get closer to her. With a mighty shake, Daenerys lost her bearings and fell off Drogon. Distracted by the pain, Drogon did not realize Daenerys was not on him as he took off into the sky.

Daenerys grunted, falling on her side. Several wights were falling down around, lying motionless. For a second, she thought the impact from the fall embolized them or killed them. She was mistaken as the wights shot up, sitting straight, looking at her. One who was the close jumped onto his feet, charging with a hatchet. Daenerys crawled back, trying to escape the creature.

Never in her life has she felt afraid. Not like her childhood in fear of assassins. Not when the Dothraki took her. Not when she was captured by the warlocks. All her encounters with fear seemed childish, as she looked death straight in the eyes that were icy blue. The wight, once a wildling, raised his hatchet ready to kill her.

Daenerys closed her eyes, expecting her painful death.

A swish can cut, only she did not feel pain. She looked up, seeing the wight's head behind decapitated. Along with a Valyrian sword. A hand grabbed her arm, forcing her up. Knowing there was a handful of Valyrian swords, she glanced at her savior, Ser Barristan.

Ser Barristan the Bold, made it to her just in time. He saw Drogon had landed and rushed his way to aid Daenerys. Especially when he saw her falling off Drogon with no weapon. His armor was covered in blood, his shield gone, and his helmet cracked. Before Daenerys could thank him, shrieks and snarls interrupted her. Ser Barristan only nodded, keeping a secure arm Daenerys. At the same time, his other hand held Dark Sister guiding her out of the battlefield.

.**o0o**.

_Inside Winterfell_

Although there were more living soldiers outside of Winterfell fighting to the dead. The numbers were opposite inside the battlement. There were more wights than there were living soldiers. Everywhere Jon saw familiar faces still alive, and yet all the volunteers were being decimated. He also noticed a shadow figure, slashing and stabbing the wights, the numbers were massive.

Sam was tackled down. He stabbed his way as each wight covered him, yet the numbers were too much. Over and over, he stabbed away, the weight from the dead crushing him so. He saw Jon pass by, yet Jon couldn't see him. He tried to call out for help, yet his voice was drowned out by the wights' snarl. Over and over, he tried to climb himself out, thrashing his arms holding to obsidian daggers. The dead's weight burying him alive. Sam managed to get one hand free, when all of a sudden, somebody grabbed it, forcing him up.

Sam was about to thank the man, and his eyes widen to see it was Dickon. Their childhood had been a competition, thanks to their father. One could say Samwell was the brains, and Dickon was the bronze, while their sister Talla is the heart. Although, Dickon tried to please their father, doing and saying things he did not mean, the youngest brother did care for his older brother. Before any words could be exchanged, Dickon shoved Sam away, stabbing another wight. Words can wait as the two brothers fought.

Still, on top of the battlement, Lord Randyll took down three wights. He turned around, looking for Dickon until spotting his favorable son fighting alongside his dishonored son. For a moment, Lord Randyll saw Sam fight like a man. Even though his physical form seemed impossible, Sam continued to fight tooth and nail, killing wights everywhere he went. Lord Randyll thought the Night's Watch would make Samwell a man. When Sam returned, it didn't appear as much. Now in the heat of battle, Lord Randyll realized his mistake. The Shadowbinder Quaithe was right. He tore the bonds by pride in the idealism of masculinity.

Now, he could be too late to fix it.

More wights rushed towards his sons. Scowling, Lord Randyll hurried to aid his sons. At first, the sons managed to keep the wights away. Over and over, they slashed and stabbed their weapons into the wights, killing them instantly. Shrieks and cries echoing around as the fallen soldiers perish for a second time. Only the numbers continue to grow. What started at five at a time, turn to ten, and soon fifteen. They were outnumbered. Samwell gave Dickon a glance who did the same. This was it. They were going to die. At least they die fighting alongside one another.

Until a third sword came in joining their group. Lord Randyll made it just in time standing between his sons. Both were shocked by this.

"Don't just stand there, fight." Lord Randyll said. "We Tarly never stand down."

Sam and Dickon were dumbfounded. Shaking their heads, they adjusted their grips and fight alongside one another.

_Meanwhile…_

_Jon's POV_

Jon continued to run through the corridors and halls of Winterfell. The Godswoods was on the other side of the Keep. So, Jon ran for his life to save his brother. Wights were everywhere. Chasing him from all entryways and angles like starving animals. He ran, jumped, and climbed over furniture and corpses.

Making a sharp turn, he saw a gate. Running faster, Jon made it across and slammed the gate closed. The Wights piled on the other side, pushing it open. Groaning, Jon reached for the lever, wincing as his hands were being scratched to latch it shut, separating him from them. He ran for dear life, not realizing who was living and who was dead.

The adrenaline was rushing through his veins.

Until he crashed into someone. Jon was about to kill the man until his sword blocks the attack. Their Valyrian swords clashed, causing sparks to appear. The sparks snapped Jon his daze to see it was Ser Jorah. The Knight drew his sword away.

"Bran," Jon could only say.

Seeing how the fallen have become their enemy, gave Jorah the notion that the Night King was in the city. Nodding, he grabbed Jon by the arm, leading him out of the corridors for the central courtyard. Jon appreciated it. The more men he can get, the better, especially with Valyrian steel.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Outside the cities wall, Ser Barristan continued to fight, protecting Daenerys. During their attempted escape, Daenerys managed to pick up an obsidian sword. She was still a novice, not fully trained as her sister. Yet, she knows how to hold a blade and defense moves. If one gets to close, she does her best to stab the wight. Otherwise, Ser Barristan, being quick, executes them in a flash.

Their numbers were growing, as they joined a group of Stormlanders and Reach soldiers. Ser Gareth and Ser Garlan being amongst the group. Over and over, they continue to fight, trying to protect the princess. They were surrounded, and yet, they fight hard. Until one wight got to close and leaped towards Daenerys. She tried to block it, except she shoved back. Ser Barristan stood in front of her, as the wight's daggered pierced an open spot in his armor around his shoulder. Ser Barristan cried out, slashing Dark Sister into the creature destroying it.

More wights were coming forward. Ser Barristan blocked out the pain and attacked each wight that dare got near. Daenerys managed to stand up, trying her best to fight back. Yet, Ser Barristan continued to defend her. No matter how many times his armor was struck, or when a blade managed to hit him in the weak spots in his armor.

"Protect the Princess," Ser Barristan told the soldiers who keep getting into formation. All of them surrounding Daenerys.

**.o0o.**

_Inside Winterfell_

Jon and Jorah made it to the courtyard. It was chaotic as it was in the market. The two men maneuver their way through the chaos, trying to get to the entrance for the Godswood. Just about halfway there, the Ice Dragon landed on the covered parapet and blew frozen fire.

Jon and Jorah, ran back, taking cover behind a stone wall. The blue flames going straight on each side of them. They could feel the frozen flame, artic but at the same time hot, suffocating the air around them, making it difficult to breathe. It was a fire they have never seen. Fire that can create and destroy.

Once the flames precepted, they tried again through the lower part of the wooden galleries. One of the doors burst open as a wave of wights came trampling in. They ran, which caught the Ice Dragon's attention. It crawled down, destroying in its wake, with a mouth open with fire. Jorah saw a pile of rubble, tackling Jon down, as the frozen fire came their way.

They were not going to make it.

They can't fight the Ice Dragon and the wights at the same time.

That is until another roar could be heard. Viserion came and attacked the frozen dragon from behind breathing fire. The Ice Dragon roared in agony, as Viserion burned him while climbing on top. His front talons grabbing hold of the wings, while lower talons on the things. His teeth biting the midsection of the neck. The sounds of glass breaking could be heard, along with blood piercing scratches. The Ice Dragon shrieks, thrashing away, yet Viserion held adding more pressure to the bite.

On top was Alysanne, as she was chanting the dragon spells to aid Viserion to give him strength and to increase his fire. She was taking all of her familiars' pain, all the injures as her mouth, hands, and feet hurt. Her body burning inside with fever, yet she continues the spell.

Jorah and Jon saw this. The wights realizing that Viserion was a threat, ran towards the dragons. Realizing Alysanne needed help, Jorah shoved Jon.

"Go!" Jorah barked.

Jon understands what he meant, looked at Alysanne, the black knight on the golden dragon, before running into the Godswoods. Jorah adjusted Heartsbane and charged into the attack. What remaining soldiers joined in, to keep the wights away from Viserion. Jorah kept glancing at Alysanne, unable to tell if she was struggling, yet the dragons were thrashing about. Fighting to conquered and escape from one another. The men tried to avoid the dragon confrontation.

.**o0o**.

_The Godswood_

_Jon's POV_

Jon ran into the Godswood, seeing the wights surrounding the heart tree where Bran waited. The White Walkers stood behind the Night King, who had a broken spear that was impaling Theon. Jon was shocked seeing his once friend die, trying to protect Bran. The Night King tossed Theon aside and walked ahead towards Bran.

Jon furious ran towards them. Longclaw out and slashed his way through the White Walker. Two went down in seconds, shattering into pieces. The Night King stopped midway, turning around to see Jon. The White Wolf glared as he tried to fight his way through the White Walkers. His goal was simple, destroy the Night King and get the horn.

The White Walkers drew their blades to attack, surrounding Jon. He tried fighting them off, until the Night King stopped them, letting his children make a clear opening.

The Night King drew his falx ready to fight.

Jon charged in and attacked the Night King. The immortal twisted his falx, blocking the attack. Both blades collided, as the Valyrian steel singing to the ice blade started to make the crystal crack. The Night King pulled back, swirling around Jon, then striked. Jon blocked the attack, ducking down and slash at the side. The Night King quickly stepped away, spinning around, and swung. Jon managed to prevent each strike and held the falx at a crossguard. The Night King added force, shoving Jon away.

The immortal smiled at Jon, enjoying the challenge. One he hadn't had for seven thousand years. A worthy opponent indeed. As he attacks, Jon spun around, avoiding it, going for the leg, yet the Night King stepped back. Their blades keep crossing, and each time Longclaw struck the ice falx, the weaker it becomes. Jon felt like he had the advantage. Jon attacked again, the Night King avoided, as he took the opportunity to grab Jon's arm, sending frost on him, adding pain.

Jon cried out, adjusting his hold on Longclaw, swinging away while blocking the falx. Until the Night King, managed to grab Jon's other hand while holding the falx, forcing it under between them exposing Jon, and kicked him in the chest. The pain disrupted Jon, resulting in him falling back with Longclaw falling to the ground. The Night King smirked as he walked over to Jon raising his falx. Finally, putting an end to White Wolf.

The White Wolf stared at the Night King.

"What is it you're after?" Jon yelled. "What do you want?"

The Night King paused, staring at Bran, who was warging right now. He then looked at Jon.

"End the cycle," the Night King whispered.

Jon's eyes widen, for the first time Night King spoke.

"Stop the changes," the Night King whispered.

The Night King raised the falx, ready to execute Jon and finish the Three-Eye Raven once and for all. The Three-Eyed Raven was his target all along since his reawakening. The Night King knows something that humanity does not, except for the greenseer. Humanity was mere pawns between the two entities. A deadly game of chess, of a cycle that never ends.

"No…power… for… us."

The falx was about to fall down a shadow slither through the white's walkers and wights. Arya came jumping in with her Valyrian dagger in her left hand. The Night King turned around, grabbing Arya's arm, preventing her assassination attempt. Twisting it to an angle to let go. Arya cried out in pain. Jon seeing his sister was in trouble, grabbed Longclaw, and stabbed the Night King in the back, straight into his frozen heart, shattering the obsidian and breaking the curse.

The Night King tensed as he looked down, seeing the Valyrian steel penetrating through him. His icy starburst eyes stared at Arya. A combustible wave shattered the Night King, bursting into a million ice crystals. The blast knocked everyone down, as the wave penetrated through the White Walkers who were in mid charge to attack, shattered as well. All the wights that were old collapsed, turning to dust while the fresh wights stopped in their track, dropping dead.

Arya fell to the ground as she stared at Jon, seeing him falling to his knees. He panted, focusing on Longclaw in his hand. He did it. He had finished the Night King. However, something did not feel right. What the Night King had said, about ending the cycle. What cycle is he talking about? Also, he mentioned something about power. Jon turned his attention to Bran, who returned from his warging. The Three-Eyed Raven stared at Jon with apathy.

Something told Jon not to believe in the Three-Eyed Raven.

Arya got up and ran over, hugging Jon. The impact almost knocked him over, along with the pain finally making itself known.

"You did it," Arya said.

"Not yet…" Bran interrupted.

Arya was confused when the dragon roar disrupted the peaceful silence.

"The Ice Dragon," Jon gasped as he shoved Arya away, looking for Joramun Horn.

Arya realizing this, got down on her knees, helping Jon in search of the horn. She forgot the Ice Dragon was under a spell. With the Night King as its Master gone, the dragon has control of its own body. And what Alysanne said, the Ice Dragon has accumulated eight-thousand years of rage and hatred towards humanity.

Arya was able to find it, as she quickly brought it up to her lips and blow. However, no sound other than a raspberry noise echoed out. She tried again, thinking she was out of breath. Yet it did not make the sound of a boastful tone. Jon grabbed the horn, wondering if it works on those with magic in their blood. Being half Targaryen, the blood of old Valyria should work. As he took a deep breath and blew on it. Nothing, in fact, barely any of his air was going through the horn. Jon examined the horn and found the problem.

The mouthpiece was damaged, melted away while the bell was chipped and cracked. Jon tried again, only it crumbled apart with a burst of green and yellow flames, while the runes shimmer in the air. Whatever enchantment the Children of the Forest put on the horn was forever gone.

And the wild dragon of ice has been unleashed.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys' POV_

Daenerys stood there as more wights came their way, only to collapse on the spot. The decomposed wights turning to dust, while the fallen remained dead. The soldiers stood there dumbfounded, yet remained cautious if it was a trick.

After a moment, the wights did not move. Even Ser Garlan took the risk, as he knelt down to a wight, checking its eyes. Lifting the lid to find green eyes instead of icy blue orbs. This confirmed that the Night King was gone. The curse has been lifted.

The Khaleesi sighed in relief, turning her attention to Ser Barristan, who fell onto his knees and down on his side. She rushed over, wondering if it was exhaustion. As she took Ser Barristan into her arms, blood coated her white coat. All the weak points in his armor were covered in blood. Many wights had stabbed him countless times; his bold nature had him continue fighting.

Daenerys cried, cradling the older knights face. A man who has become a father figure to her over the last five years. Someone who was her connection with her family. A close friend to Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella.

"Don't …cry…" Ser Barristan forces out, taking her hand.

"Don't die," Daenerys sobbed. "Please, don't die."

"Be strong…" he breathed. "You and your sister."

"Barristan!" she sobbed into his chest.

"Goodbye, …daughter…" were his last words.

Daenerys sobbed and wailed as she held Ser Barristan in her arms.

Ser Garlan and Ser Gareth felt combustible waves crossed through Winterfell, consuming the wights as they stopped and dropped dead all around. Everyone who was still alive panted, looking around, seeing the enemy had fallen. Their swords and kneeled before a fallen knight. All the soldiers did the same, as they prayed to the gods and honoring a hero. Daenerys could not see, as she sobbed into her Knight's armor. Losing a family member once again.

**.o0o.**

_Moments earlier…_

_Alysanne's POV_

Viserion continued to pin the Ice Dragon down in the courtyard of Winterfell. Together, we tried to keep the beast down, restricting him from unleashing havoc upon the castle. Viserion biting and thrashing his way, chipping through the frozen scales, while breathing fire upon its neck. I took all the pain, feeling parts of my body being frozen while Viserion tries to snap any part of the Ice Dragon's neck and wings.

As this was happening, I could see the men fighting the wights. They were trying to keep the Army of the Dead away from us, so we could defeat the dragon. Through the chaos, being thrashed about, barely able to see Jorah fighting amongst the others. The world was spinning, the force from the fighting knocking my body around inside the armor a couple of times, my head hitting Viserion's spike.

That is until the atmosphere changed, a pulse of a wave soaring through Winterfell. I could see it, almost to that of a fog, a ring stretching out going through everything. When it pierced the wights, the dead tensed and fallen to the ground. Those who were severely decayed, crumbled, turning to dust.

The Ice Dragon gave a shriek, before collapsing onto the ground. Viserion remained biting its neck for a moment before pulling back, taking deep breaths. We panted hard, trying to recover from the whiplash.

The living soldiers stood there, comprehending what had just happened.

Either Jon or somebody killed the Night King.

The world was still spinning.

The air, though still cold, managed to breathe. Filling my burning lungs with fresh air. Through clouded eyes, I stared at the men who fell to their knees or remained standing. Jorah turned around, removing his helmet. He panted, giving a relieved smile. I tried to smile back, removing the visor so he could see.

It was done.

The Long Night was over.

I guess the Ice Dragon was dead all this time and was being manipulated by the Night King. All that fear of Joramun Horn over nothing. I was about to unfasten the harness when I felt the vibration through the spell. Viserion felt the vibration from the Ice Dragon. A deep and menacing low growl. My head shot up, staring at Jorah, whose eyes widen, having a better view of the beast.

The Ice Dragon raised his head and turned to look at Viserion and me, releasing a mighty roar. Viserion jabbed in, biting his neck, preventing it from breathing fire on us. I turned my gaze to Jorah, staring at him for the last time. His eyes widen, realizing where this was going. Remembering the nightmare, I had in Meereen. No doubt, I have to be the one to end the Ice Dragon.

And it will cost me my life.

I adjusted my position on Viserion, taking this dance to the sky away from Winterfell.

"Alysanne, don't!" Jorah yelled.

"I'm sorry," I said, before forcing Viserion to let go with a challenging roar.

The Ice Dragon, in his furious rage, accepted as Viserion jumped into the air and took off for the sky. In the darkness of night, we soar into the atmosphere. We chased after the Ice Dragon, as it swirled around us, breathing frozen fire at us.

"Let's finish this!" I told Viserion, drawing out the Targaryens sword.

Viserion roared in agreement, as he breathed fire at the Ice Dragon. It struck it in the tail, causing it to shriek. Viserion dove down under as I lifted my sword, trying to stab it in the chest. The angle was off, as the tip of the blade scraped across its icicle scale.

_Its scales are fossils of ice__,_ Visenya said. _You need to strike deeper_.

"Closer, so we can reach its heart," I ordered.

_This time, rip it out of his chest,_ Visenya ordered.

Viserion growled as he soared higher into the sky, before closing his wings and diving straight at the Ice Dragon. They collided in the middle, Viserion grasping onto its wings and biting away at the neck. The Ice Dragon growled, shoving his shoulder with such force it flipped us over, as we somehow got on his back. Viserion ducked his talons deep, biting again along with breathing fire. The Ice Dragon turned upside down, knocking us off. Viserion fell trying to catch his bearings.

The Ice Dragon dived down. Viserion caught the wind, swirling around, bringing fire on the beast. However, a sharp turn and the Ice Dragon grabbed hold of Viserion's neck. His teeth penetrating deep that I could feel the suffocation. Viserion giving a screeching noise that I never heard him make in his entire life.

"Viserion!" I screamed.

Viserion curled up using his tail to stab the Ice Dragon in the face. Using it like a mace, with the spikes to penetrate the eyes. Over and over, Viserion did this. The angle was impossible for me to reach the Ice Dragon. I cursed, trying to take the pain from Viserion through the bond, feeling myself being suffocated. Another strike got the Ice Dragon in the eye, causing it to let go. As Viserion pulled away, he blew fire into the creature's mouth.

Viserion dived down, separating us from the Ice Dragon, leading the beast further away from Winterfell. I panted, staring at Viserion neck, seeing puncture holes that were seeping blood out.

_Don't worry about him,_ Visenya said. _Keep your mind in the fight._

A blast of frozen fire came our way, striking Viserion in the back. My golden dragon grunted and groans, as he continued to fly. Worrying about my dragon, I did the spell again.

_"Skulblakas ven_," I chanted.

I looked through Viserion eyes, trying to see where the Ice Dragon was amongst the clouds. However, the view was disoriented. Almost foggy, difficult to see where everything was.

"What's happening?" I asked.

_His vision's failing,_ Visenya answered with concern. _This wound weakens him._

I rested my hand on Viserion's shoulder, disconnecting the visual spell, "Easy, Viserion. We're gonna get through this together."

Viserion grunted, his acceleration was decreasing. No doubt, he was losing strength. I looked around until seeing the Ice Dragon silhouette down below. I know what I have to do. As I tighten my hold on the Valyrian sword. I did one last prayer to the Seven, and also to the Valyrian gods, praying for their strength. Sending the message to Viserion, he grunted in response as he got lower to a proper level with the Ice Dragon facing the beast. Quickly, I removed the harness and crawled my way over to the tail. I held on for dear life, as Viserion tried to get the right angle.

I took a deep breath and shouted, "_Now_!"

Viserion flexed his tail, tossing me across the sky. The Ice Dragon was confused, haltering his flight, which resulted in exposing his chest. I closed my eyes, forcing my body to stay straight as my sword penetrated through his heart, going deep into the hilt. The Ice Dragon shrieks, with a thrash causing me to lose hold of the handle.

I fell, watching as the Ice Dragon thrashed trying to fly away, yet his body began the crack. The last thing I saw was Ice Dragon releasing the final breath of frozen fire before falling towards the end. I closed my eyes, unable to scream as the wind howl in my ear. This was it. This was my death. There was no Rhaegar or Jon to save me. Not like my dream had shown.

My destiny was to help prevent the Long Night, and that is what I did. I have led my men and allies to a gruesome battle to save the living. I only wish is that my actions restore House Targaryens name. My eyes water only to crystallize into ice.

"I'm sorry, Dany." Were my last words.

When I open my eyes for the last time to see the moon. Instead, I saw Viserion, as he dives in to catch me. The determination illuminating in his amber eyes. Closer and closer he dived, once he was close, he swoops up and grabbed me roughly with his hind legs.

Everything happened so fast. I was masked in darkness, while the world banged and cracked around me. It wasn't until I saw the trees did I realize, Viserion was crashing into the Wolfswood. The impacts struct us, Viserion desperately tried to keep his hold, until he turned falling on his back. The impact caused him to let go and I fell, landing roughly on the ground. The force shoved my helmet off and ripped parts of my armor. Feeling my left shoulder dislocate. I collided into a tree, which stopped the inertia.

I groaned, pushing myself up and looked over where my dragon was. My vision was distorted, the ground felt like it was spinning. With what little the moon gave, and the opening of the forest, I could see Viserion, curled on the forest flow in a discomforting angle.

"Viserion!" I cried.

I tried to run over, yet my ankle caved with a shot of pain. I cried, thinking I have sprained my ankle. In the end, I forced myself trying to run towards Viserion, ignoring the pain. Several times I fell, falling into the freshly coated snow. Trudging and crawling closer to my familiar.

The tortures not only from my suffering, but hearing Viserion suffer as well.

After what felt like an eternity, I was finally able to reach his neck.

"Viserion," I sobbed, examining his condition.

Through hazy eyes, I examined his neck, where the Ice Dragon bit him. There were countless bite marks, wounds that were deep in his neck. I touched the wound, only to have my hands coated in blood. No, no, he cannot die.

_We did it,_ whispered a new voice I've never heard before. A soft tenner voice with an echo.

I looked around to see who was there. Except there was no one out there. A grunt caught my attention as I stared at Viserion, who was looking at me with tired eyes.

"Viserion?" I whispered.

_Together_, Viserion replied softly. _Blood of my blood._

"No, please, don't die," I sobbed.

I tried to think of all the dragon spells Visenya had taught me. My thoughts were all jumbled up. In the end, there was no magic to heal in Valyrian. No spell can save someone from the brink of death. Even if it was the Lord of Light, I doubt he would save Viserion. I wish I could trade my second life so Viserion could live. Let the dragons live.

_Alysanne_, Viserion whispered before falling unconscious.

"No!" I cried. "Viserion!"

I sobbed hovering over his neck, bawling into his wounds. I feel like I was losing half of myself. Viserion was my friend, my child, and my other half. He completed me. He brought back hope along with his brothers. I cried to Visenya, begging her for a spell that could save Viserion. In the end, all I could hear were my own wails and tears.

As time went on, the pain causes me to succumb to darkness.

_Together_.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah and the living watched from above as the dance of dragons took place. Blue and orange fire cascaded over the sky like lightning as each dragon tried to destroy the other. Jorah clenched his teeth and gripped Heartsbane feeling useless down below. Jon had soon joined him, seeing the battle taking place.

"The horn?" Jorah demanded. "Use the horn."

"The horn is damaged, we tried to use it," Jon explained.

Jorah growled, "Rhaegal?"

"He's badly hurt," Jon explained.

"What about the other dragon?" Arya asked as she ran over.

"Drogon," Jorah replied, wondering where the black dragon was. "Find Daenerys, Drogon should be there with her."

Arya nodded as she ran to find Daenerys.

Jorah and Jon continued to watch the fight praying that Alysanne and Viserion win. The confrontation soon headed north towards the Wolfswood. They stood at the gate, barely able to see the battle from the storm clouds. The snow had stopped falling, as the clouds lighten up, allowing the moon to shine through.

_Come on,_ Jorah thought.

He felt useless. As he remembers the look, Alysanne gave him from her helmet. Regret, fear, and love that he could barely see in the haze. Not again. Jorah cannot lose Alysanne again. Let it not be the Daznak pit. Not again.

They watched.

Arya soon came back out of breath.

"Is she coming?" Jorah barked.

Arya panted as she shook her head, "Drogon is badly injured as well."

Jorah growled as the three continued to watch. Then something happens. Viserion was in front of the Ice Dragon, swinging his tail before dodging away. The Ice Dragon gave a piercing shriek, pulling back as it raised his chest. It released its final fire before falling to the ground. Something happened, something killed the Ice Dragon.

That is when Jorah noticed Viserion diving down fast. Something was wrong. The smoke and darkness made it difficult to see, but it appeared that Viserion was chasing something. The golden dragon swooped up his hind legs, grabbing it, then crashed into the Wolfsfood. The Ice Dragon also crashed into the Wolfswood shattering, as everyone could hear the crack.

"Go to her," Quaithe said, appearing out of nowhere.

She was in her mortal form. She stared at the three, exhausted, as strands of silver melted in her dark hair. In her hand, were two reins attach two surviving horses already saddled.

"What?" Jon replied, startled.

"She is alone, injured, and fading," Quaithe explained. "She won't last long in the cold."

Jorah scowled, as he secured Heartsbane in its scabbard, and climbed on a horse. Quaithe was right. No doubt, the collision would have left severe injuries or worse death. He did not think. All that mattered was finding Alysanne and bringing her back. Jon got on the other horse, joined him on the pursuit, while Arya went to find more men to search the Wolfswood to find the Dragon Queen.

The horses trotted across the field since they could not go straight through without falling into a trench. They went around until reaching the forest line. So many thoughts linger in Jorah's head. Wondering if Alysanne was still alive.

As they travel deep into the Wolfswood, they started to hear a groan. It was animalist. Deep and in utterly in pain. They followed the groaning sounds. It was Viserion, Jorah can tell quite easily. It wasn't long when they reached an opening where the trees have been destroyed and a trail. Jorah got off his horse, calling out for Alysanne. Jon did, as well. They continued down the path when spotting a spaulder and the helmet. Jorah picked the helmet up, seeing the winds were damage.

"Alysanne!" Jorah called out.

Another groan from Viserion could be heard. Jorah ran in that direction. The adrenaline still pumping in his veins to subdue the pain. It wasn't long that they reach the opening to find Viserion. The dragon was curled into a ball, having one wing covering his head. Jon was about to step forward, except Jorah stopped him. He wasn't sure if Viserion trusted Jon. The last thing they need is a dead king. So, Jorah cautiously walked up ahead, reaching the dragon's face.

"Viserion," Jorah said softly.

Viserion groaned, opening his eyes to see the knight. Jorah can sense something was wrong with the dragon. No doubt, the dragon was in pain. There was a strong scent of blood in the air. Blood seeping into the snow. Severely injured, as the knight could see some of the wounds.

"Viserion, where is Alysanne?" Jorah asked.

Viserion grunted, adjusting his wing to reveal an unconscious Alysanne. The dragon mustered all his strength to cover Alysanne, protecting her from the wind chill and possible predators. She was battle-worn, her armor damaged, hair unravel, while there was blood, a gash on the side of her head. Bruising along her neck. Jorah kneeled, placing a hand over her face, feeling breath. He sighed in relief, although he feared what other damages there are.

Carefully, Jorah placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to wake her, "Alysanne."

Alysanne gasped, a sharp cry, yet she remained unconscious. Viserion gave a warning growl to be careful. Jorah apologized, as he carefully scooped Alysanne in his arms. Standing up, Jorah glanced at Viserion, seeing the dragon watching him silently pleading to protect her.

"I will," Jorah promised.

Viserion nodded, closing his eyes for he needed to rest.

Quietly, Jorah made his way back to Jon and the horses.

"Is she alright?" Jon asked.

"She's injured, she needs a Maester," Jorah answered.

Jon nodded in agreement. Alysanne has been in the sky longer than any of them. Exposed to the arctic weather, while dealing with the dragon spells, taking all of Viserion's pain. Jorah handed Alysanne over as he mounted his horse. Once settled, Jon handed the Queen over. A whimper could be heard from the Dragon Queen. It pained Jorah to see his lover like this. Nearly everything she does, she always ended up hurt. He hopes once the second war with Cersei is over, Alysanne can finally be happy.

When Jon got on his horse, the two headed back to Winterfell.

* * *

**Hey guys. This ends the Long Night. I hope you all enjoy my version of the Long Night. I tried to make things different than what we got from the show. Also thank you to xXFallenSakuraXx52, for editing the last three chapters. You have been an awesome help for me, since editing chapter 38 of "The Gift".**

**Inspiration for this chapter has come from the Witcher and Eragon.**

**Also, in a few days I will be posting a short story called Lunar Night. It is a What If? What if the assassination attempt from the Wine Merchant never happen? What if Rhaego was born. It is a short story.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	86. Chapter 86: Dawn

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

* * *

**Chapter** 86: **Dawn**

Winterfell

The war was over.

It should be a sign of victory. One that many Lords and soldiers who have encountered battles should be proud of. Unfortunately, there was no joy in this victory. All the soldiers standing there watching the original wights turn to dust leaving only the fallen. Many pierced by the enemy and their own comrades. There was no victory. Only the realization of death. No one was able to speak. Many fell to their knees, filled with exhaustion while others stood there.

Inside Winterfell, silence engulfed the area. Ser Jaime, Ser Brienne, and Podrick slumped against the wall, not caring about the dead huddling around them. Tormund and Gendry sat on a wagon; their backs together not able to say a word only breathe. Sandor opened the door from the Keep escorting Melisandre outside once the coast was clear. Sam and Dickon kneel before their father. Lord Randyll received a lethal wound in the naval region, just below his chest plate. Sam was exposed, and his father pushed him aside, taking the blow. Both men's eyes water, yet they did not sob for their father.

"My sons," Lord Randyll heaved before succumbing to the Stranger's presence.

Those who are on the brick of death could see the shadow figure. Even Arya, as she stood there in the courtyard. Death had many faces. She considers the Stranger hovering over Winterfell collecting the souls of the fallen. Even Bran could see the Stranger, through the eyes of the Three-Eyed Raven.

Death was all around in the darkness.

Until the darkness slowly dimmed towards the dawn.

The Red Priestess spotted Quaithe and made her way over to the shadow binder. She could tell her companion used a lot of magic to do her shadow person, as the silver strands danced in the shadowbinder's dark hair. The two nodded, heading out. Ser Davos spotted this as he limped his way over. He was not done with Melisandre just yet. The Onion Knight made a vow to kill her if he ever saw her again.

The moment Ser Davos caught up to them, he stopped at the gate as the two Shadowbinders whispered in Valyrian. Melisandre took off her necklace and handed it over to Quaithe. They nodded to each other before Melisandre walking towards the battlefield. Ser Davos came out, standing by Quaithe as they watched the Red Witch wither away to dust. No one can say a word in seeing the Red Priestess dying just like that. Another soul claimed by Death.

"What happened to her?" Ser Davos asked.

Quaithe stared at the necklace in her hand, "Everything that has life will one day come to an end. From the flames, there are ashes. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Ser Davos looked at the Shadowbinder. He can tell Quaithe was not a fanatic like Melisandre. She does not pray or praise the Lord of Light. The only thing Melisandre and Quaithe had in common was their origin of Asshai. Other than that, they were opposites. A magic that can cast two shadows, one that is abused by power-seekers while the others use its magic as an element of its own devices. The two stood there, watching the dawn.

**.o0o.**

Daenerys stood on the Northside of the battlement with Drogon. She felt numb inside, unable to move as she stared at the Wolfswood. She feels like she lost so much. Ser Barristan was dead. Her surrogate father died to protect her. Then she watched the Dance of Dragons between Viserion and the Ice Dragon. When Arya ran to her, begging she send Drogon to help, she couldn't. Drogon was severely injured. The same as Rhaegal. And then it happened, both dragons falling from the sky and disappeared into the forest.

Two riders immediately went into the forest. No doubt, Jorah is one of the riders. And yet, Daenerys could not move. She remained where she was, near the gate surrounded by bodies. Ser Gareth and Ser Garlan tried to bring her inside, yet Drogon gave them a warning growl. The two knights were able to collect Ser Barristan, knowing he needed to be prepared for the funeral.

Only one person managed to come towards her. It was Missandei. The translator came over and stood beside Daenerys. She did not utter a single word. Seeing that Missandei was alive, confirms those who were in the Great Hall are alive as well. Therefore Varys, Tyrion, Lady Sansa are alive, along with the women, children, and elderly. Soon Grey Worm came over, battle-worn with cuts on his leather armor. He did not say a word, only stood by Missandei and Daenerys with a spear in hand. Guilt constricted his voice, not knowing how many of his brothers remained. If there was still an Unsullied. All around, they could see more Westerosi than Unsullied and Dothraki still recovering on the battlefield.

All three of them stood watching the horizon waiting. Grey Worm suggested he get what remaining Unsullied to search the woods. The sun was peaking over the eastern mountains. Dawn. The next day has come, as the dark sky started to turn a deep blue, slowly getting brighter by the minute.

Time seemed to pass as dawn approaches.

Daenerys remained standing there. Dark Sister still in her hand.

For the second time in her life, Daenerys prayed to the gods. Begging that the God of Death doesn't take her sister away. Tragedy always seems to take her family away. War and greed. Viserys's death was what he deserved for making their lives a living hell. Her father maybe so. But her Mother and Alysanne, Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon shouldn't have suffered. Then she remembered that her second nephew was still alive. Yet, the shock and exhaustion prevented her from thinking about Jon in that way.

All she can do was wait.

When the sun finally broke through the horizon two horses trotted over from the forest. Daenerys rushed over as they came closer. She saw Jon exhausted with concern; meanwhile, Jorah was holding onto Alysanne. Her sister unconscious, if not severely injured.

"Grey Worm, find the Maester now. Take him to the Queen's room," Jorah ordered.

Grey Worm nodded as he ran to get the Maester. Jorah continued to ride inside with Missandei following to help. Daenerys looked at Jon.

"Viserion?" she asked.

"Badly injured in the woods," he answered.

Drogon heard this, forcing himself to fly over to check on his brother. Daenerys could sense his pain and discomfort. The Ice Dragon did a number on them through the Dragon Spell. No doubt Jon's chest is aching, just as her shoulders and neck. But Alysanne was the one who fought the Ice Dragon the longest. While Daenerys and Drogon share a strong bond, Viserion and Alysanne's bond, it's entirely different. Therefore, Alysanne must be physically suffering like her dragon.

Jorah rushed his horse to Winterfell. He was not in a mood for a conversation. His focus was getting Alysanne inside and treated. Through the ride back, he heard a small whimper from his love. Even unconscious, her body was trying to tell people she was in pain. Lost in tunnel vision, he reached the tower, along with Jon. The White Wolf got off and helped the Knight by taking hold of Alysanne. Once down, Jorah took his Queen and carried her inside.

Daenerys and Missandei rushed right behind them. A few Unsullied as well, as they shove any of the dead out of the way. The moment they arrive in the room, they discover a fire was already lit. Standing by the fire was Quaithe.

"Set her down and remove her armor," the Shadowbinder instructed.

Jorah nodded, doing so. Missandei helped him, as they stripped away the armor, chainmail, and gambeson. When they reached her final layer of clothes, they stopped, seeing bloodstains. Immediately, Jorah opens the latches finding lacerations around her stomach. Her neck was swollen in a shade of red, with small specks of blue in what looked like a bite mark. Her lips were blue from the cold, and tension could be seen along her jaw. Missandei removed Alysanne's glove, revealing locked joints.

Daenerys gasped as she came over, "She used too much Valyrian magic."

Jorah scowled when seeing this and turned to Quaithe. "Help her."

Quaithe came over, resting her hand over Alysanne's heart along with the wrappings, "She's on the brink of death."

"No!" Daenerys gasped. "Not again."

"Her dragon and she are mortally wounded." Quaithe said. "I can heal the body, but the soul…she must do so herself."

"Then do it," Daenerys demanded.

"Very well, Khaleesi," Quaithe complied. "But you all must leave the room. What I am about to do cannot be seen."

Daenerys was about to argue, until Jorah placed a hand on her arm, "I trust her. Do you trust me?"

The Khaleesi hesitated as she stared at Alysanne, before nodding. All three left the room. As Jorah was about to close the door, he saw Quaithe grabbing a bowl and paintbrush. Bringing back memories of Qarth. When the door shut, he turned around, staring at the two ladies. Until realizing one person was missing. He knew Grey Worm was fetching Maester Wolkan. The Knight can only assume Tyrion is tending to Ser Jaime and Varys was getting a report. However, where was Ser Barristan?

That was when he saw Dark Sister in Daenerys's hand.

"Ser Barristan?"

Daenerys looked down, hugging the ancient sword, "He…he didn't make it."

"How?"

"He died because of me," she said.

Jorah sighed, knowing the stubborn old man would do anything for the Dragon Sisters. In the short amount of years behind closed doors, Ser Barristan treated the girls has his own daughters. Despite the formality. The Knight rested his hand on her shoulder. Daenerys stared at him with watery violet eyes.

"And he would do it again," Jorah said.

There were two types of death a knight prefers. One on the battlefield or surrounded by loved ones. Ser Barristan had no wife, no legacy that would show him the love many men prefer. A sworn shield of the Targaryen Kingsguard. To die in his sleep is what Ser Barristan feared the most. The older Knight favored protecting those he loved rather than having the Stranger claim him in his sleep. Jorah remembered what Ser Barristan said after Astapor.

"I burned away my years fighting for terrible kings. . . Just once in my life before it's over, I want to know what it's like to serve with pride, to fight for someone I believe in."

Jorah sighed.

"Will your friend help her?" Missandei asked.

Jorah nodded, staring at the door, "She has done so twice."

Missandei nodded as all three stood there.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

It felt like I was drowning.

My body has become stone, unable to move. My arms felt like lead. All around me, there was nothing but darkness. Darkness that engulfed me in an endless abyss. No source of light. Only the feeling of ice. Like I was falling in frozen water. My eyes barely fluttering open, stinging in saltwater.

And yet, as I was drowning, I don't actually inhale blacking out. And however, my lips remained sealed, trying to hold onto the little breath I had. The instinct to not let any water in is so strong that I won't open my mouth. My head feeling the pressure, ready to explode. If I open my mouth, then it would stop hurting. Everything hurt.

The constant overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen. But it has happened. So why am I not able to let go. This persistent feeling of being under threat. The majority of my life has been under threat. Everywhere I go, somebody was trying to kill me. Therefore, this dark abyss was inviting me to let go…

But I couldn't.

My lungs begging for air.

I can't even breathe.

I'm drowning.

Holding on to save as much time I could.

Hoping for someone to save me.

Once more, I can't do this on my own.

Five years of my life have been about the Great War. I've prepared myself for the Long Night. I've brought an army, dragons, to aid the North in defeating the Night King. I have slain the Ice Dragon to save humanity from its wrath. There is a legacy I have left behind of ending Slavery in the Ghiscari province. I have put an end to the Warlocks of Qarth. And yet, all these deeds aren't enough.

However, what is enough?

I'm tired.

Nothing holds interest to me.

Only the ache in my chest where my heart would be. The weight of it, sinking me further down in the darkness. Drowning in what destiny has denied me. Until a spark of warmth. The warmth in my heart slowly dancing along my skin, leaving invisible symbols down to my womb.

That was when I saw it.

A flicker of gold shimmering in the darkness.

A hand.

In agonizing pain, I desperately reached out for it. The golden hand reaches out, grasping my wrist, and a mighty yank pulled me out of the dark water. Air surged into my lungs. The moment my feet raised from the water, then instantly back on solid ground. The individual wrapped their arms around me, swatting my back as I heaved and coughed water onto their chest.

"Easy there, take a deep breath," my savior said.

It took me a moment to register who it was before looking up. I thought I was staring at Ser Barristan. The voice was there, but the face did not match the voice. The man was tall and has pale blue eyes. He had blond hair, with a handsome face. Taller than others, I know, though he was lean and tone. He appeared to be in his thirties. Meanwhile, there was a glow around him in the darkness. Illuminating light.

"Ser…Barristan?" I asked to be sure.

The man gave a familiar smile, "Yes, Alysanne, it's me."

"How?" I asked, looking around. "Is this the Veil?"

"No, my dear, it is not," He answered. "It could have been, though."

"I don't understand?" I replied.

"One would say we are in the realm of pain. When there is too much pain, all we can handle is darkness. Time seems to fly when there are no dreams. Yet, some pain can't be easily wiped away and drown us."

I nodded, staring down at the water's reflection. Had the Long Night left such damage on my body, that I was mentally begging for death? And then the realization came. The spell I used to help Viserion. In order for Viserion to fight the Ice Dragon, I took his pain away. I felt every bite, scratch, and damage that was inflicted on him. The adrenaline reduced it, yet it wasn't enough. My eyes began to water along with a sob. Viserion…he was out in the Wolfswood dying or already dead.

"Alysanne," Barristan gasped as he took my hand.

"Viserion," I sobbed.

Ser Barristan gave a sigh of relief, "Fear not. He is well."

"How would you know?" I cried.

"All spirits know," he replied.

My heart dropped when hearing this. All spirits know. It explains why Ser Barristan appears young. How he could be here in my dreams. My loyal Knight was dead. The man who became my second surrogate father figure. It seems like everyone I love is dying. Anyone who fights for me perishes.

"I'm sorry," I cried.

"Don't be sorry," he said as he hugged me. "You had no fault in my death. I fought to protect you girls. That is what I swore and accomplish."

"But…"

He cradles my cheek in a fatherly way, "I rather die with a sword in hand than alone in bed. You brought back a purpose for me. All my life, I've wanted to be a Knight. It was when I was fifteen at a tourney where I was defeated by Prince Duncan. Despite my age, he knew I was bold, giving me my name. A few years later, at the Winter Tourney, your great-grandfather knighted me after defeating Ser Duncan the Tall. All I ever wanted was to be a brother in the Kingsguard. Your family made it so, they've tested me along with their friends in order for me to show my worth. I was indebted to your family.

"I served a great king, a good king, an insane king, and a terrible king. Three Targaryen kings, two who were taken by death and one into madness. I made friends with your brother and relatives that reminded me of that purpose. When I failed Rhaegar, I knew I failed your family. I still remember the little girl who danced in the tower. When King Robert died, and Joffrey took the throne with Ned Stark arrest…I could not stand and watch this madness. I knew of Viserys's death, but I prayed to the gods that the Targaryen Sisters were still alive. I was dishonorably discharged for no reason; however, I made a sacred vow to House Targaryen.

"A year I searched for you girls. Listening for the sighting of the Mother of Dragons and the Dragoness of the West. There were doubts if you girls were capable of claiming your birthright. For I fear the Targaryen curse lingered in your veins as it did with your father. Oh, how you proved me wrong, Alysanne. You are worthy of being Queen. Just like your Mother and great-grandmother Black Betha. All the greatness of House Targaryen. I loved you as a Knight for his Queen. Over time, I love you as my own daughter. You and Daenerys are the children I never got to have. I regret not accepting my dismissal after the Rebellion to search for you girls. But I am honored to have served you."

My eyes water upon hearing this. Three men have become my father. There was my actual father, King Aerys the Second. I respect the man he was in the past, before the madness. Yet I could not love him for what he has done to my Mother in abuse and the devastation on Westeros. Due to his madness that was caused by trauma and mourning. The second, the five years of happiness as a child, was Ser Willem Darry, who raised my siblings and me to have an education, to feel safe, and sample paternal love. When he died, I thought I'd never find a father again. Until Ser Barristan came, saving Daenerys from a warlock in Astapor. A mentor and protector. Ser Barristan spoke the facts when lies corrupt the past. The truth about my father. The memories of Rhaegar.

Along with his guidance. I wanted to be a Just Queen. And he made it so.

"My dear, when you wake, there shall be one war left. A war you have to decide if it's worth the justice you seek for your family," He said. "You will face one more trial in your life. I cannot say what this trial would be. It will test and break you, and your decision will decide how you will be seen as Queen."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I cannot say," he answered, tucking a strand of hair out of my face. "All I can say, if you choose the right path, there shall be happiness. All I want now is for you to be happy. Your life has been nothing but the happiness of others and suffering. When you wake and are healing, take that moment of what your heart has desired."

"Ser Barristan," I whispered.

"Either it is Queen of the Six Kingdoms or a Mother in Braavos, you take control of your destiny," he said. "All I want is you to be happy."

My eyes watered when hearing this.

"Promise me you will seek happiness." He said.

"I promise," I cried, hugging him.

Ser Barristan wrapped his arms around me while rubbing my back.

"You can do this; you have come so far and fulfilled your destiny." He murmured. "Now you can rest and plan your future."

I could only nod.

"There is someone you need to see," he added.

I was confused, as Ser Barristan took my head and lead the way out of the darkness. There was a light at the end. At first, I panicked, remembering people who had near-death experiences saying there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Ser Barristan gave a reassuring look, as we reached the end. We stepped out of the darkness and onto a beach. Not any beach, but Dragonstone. There the individual stood proud. His scales were shining under the rare sunlight.

"Viserion!" I gasped, running towards my familiar.

Viserion gave a purr, as he lowered his head. I hugged his snout, wrapping my arms around his nuzzle and resting my head on his face. Viserion pressed in, showing his love. We could sense our auras reconnecting.

"I thought I lost you," I breathed.

"Some friends can't be replaced," Ser Barristan said. "Well, luckily, some don't have to be."

"How?" I asked. "The wounds…I felt his soul…"

"The bond you two share is strong," he said. "Stronger than anyone. If Viserion were a man, he would be the perfect match."

Viserion rumbled in laughter. Then I remembered the voice I heard in the Wolfswood.

"I heard you, my friend," I said.

Viserion nodded as a soft whisper of a voice echoed in my head, "_Together_."

My eyes widen.

"How?" I asked.

"The spells you used in battle connected your life with his. A fraction of a moment can you two understand one another," Ser Barristan answered. "However, when you both wake, the ability to speak no longer be there. Not until the brick of death or the overuse of magic. Death will not happen for a very long time."

"Until I die of old age?" I asked.

Ser Barristan nodded, "Yes. You have died once and nearly died twice. Death will not claim you. As long as you follow the right path."

I nodded, stroking Viserion's snout.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon felt exhausted, yet sleep did not arrive. All around him was death and destruction. Sansa stood beside him, begging him to rest. But he couldn't. How could he? The Long Night was over. Thousands of men and women are dead. Winterfell was in shambles. Alysanne was mortally injured. Let alone the Night King's words. Jon paused as he stared at Bran from a distance. The Night King was after the entity inside Bran.

Something told him not to trust the Three-Eyed Raven. As he entered the courtyard, Jon spotted Daenerys talking with Grey Worm. Curious, he came over, along with Sansa.

"What is going on?" Sansa asked.

"My sister sword have not returned," Daenerys said.

"So?" Sansa asked.

Daenerys frowned, as she explained, "The sword belonged to our father. I'm asking Grey Worm and several of our men to retrieve it. And check on the dragons."

Jon took a moment. At the crash site where Viserion fell, there were parts of armor, but no sword found. Then again, they did not scavenge the sword at the other dragon's fallen site. If the sword held importance, Jon felt it was right to search for it as well.

"I'll come too," Jon said.

"No, you need to rest," Sansa implored.

"Let him," Arya said, appearing out of nowhere.

Sansa was about to argue, then sighed. She was more Tully like her Mother. Jon and Arya were more stubborn, like most Starks. Jon nodded to Arya before getting more volunteers in the search. Tormund and Gendry volunteered as well. They broke into two groups. As the Unsullied went in the direction where Viserion was, along with livestock. The rest went in the direction where the Ice Dragon fell. The sun rising ever so high.

Many thoughts were stirring in Jon's head. Many thoughts about his heritage. Earlier Daenerys told him Ser Barristan was dead. The only living person who has a connection with his father might be dying as well. Jon will always consider Ned Stark as his father. Despite all the lies. Even Jeor Mormont had been a father figure as well. But he needed to know more about Rhaegar. Not the label history has described him. Bran could tell him, but Jon couldn't trust the Three-Eyed Raven. Jon needed Alysanne to survive. She is the only one who understands.

Let alone preparing the contract to forge an alliance and truce between the North and House Targaryen. Daenerys wants all of the Seven Kingdoms. The North won't bend the knee. Even if Jon did, Sansa and Arya won't. Also, him being the rightful heir. The Dragon Sisters fought hard to reclaim the Iron Throne. And all of a sudden, he appears, and all was for not. Jon never wanted to be King. Therefore, ruling the Seven Kingdoms is out of hand.

It wasn't long when they reach the Ice Dragons remains. The creature sprawls out, wings shattered while limbs in an awkward angle.

"Well, there's the fucker," Tormund said. "The dragons did a number on this bastard."

Jon nodded, recalling the spell he used to connect with Rhaegal. He felt every bite and scratch. The Dance of Dragons is an understatement. It was brutality. The men continued to search, ensuring the dragon was dead. There was no movement from the stomach or air being puffed from the snout. So many scratchers, lacerations, and bite mark mare its skin. At first glance, the Ice Dragon appeared to be made of ice, except if it wasn't for the blood that seeped from its wounds. When they check the chest, Jon found the cause of death.

A Valyrian sword was lodged in its chest, as the leather skin cracked.

"Well, fuck me. Dragon Queen killed the dragon," Tormund praised.

The White Wolf was bewildered. Then again, he killed the Night King. Sighing, Jon grabbed hold of the handle, mustering all of his strength to get it out. It would not budge. It was so stuck, that Tormund and Gendry joined in, yanking at it with all their might. Several attempts until it flung out, causing the men to fall. Tormund laughed while Gendry sighed.

Jon, on the other hand, examined the Targaryen Sword. He recalled Alysanne telling him about it while sailing North. The Mad King made it, using what little Valyrian steel he could find. Enough to make an arming sword. A sword that a royal made was not decorated like Oathkeeper or Heartsbane. It was simple. The guard rounded and smooth, yet as he examined closer on the rain-guard, there was an etching of a dragon. Meanwhile, the pommel had forged into a dragon's head.

Gendry came over to check the damage.

"I don't see much damage, though it could use a wet stone," Gendry suggested.

"Our blacksmith can do that," Grey Worm said.

Gendry nodded, having little experience with Valyrian steel. The last thing he wanted was accidentally cutting off his fingers before even noticing they were cut off. Jon nodded as well, giving the Targaryen sword to the Unsullied Commander.

"We better head back," Jon advised.

"But first," Tormund walked over to the dragon's head with his dagger. He maneuvers the dragon's frozen lips, before prying out a dozen teeth. Gendry assumed it was a wildling thing. Once Tormund was done, the four men headed back to Winterfell.

They needed to rest before collecting the dead.

Sighing, Jon stared at the dawn.

* * *

**Hey guys, so what do you think about this chapter? I thought you guys should have one more scene with Ser Barristan.**

**Also, I have a short story out on Alysanne and Daenerys. It is called Dothraki Moon Festival. Here is the Summary:**

**What if the wine assassination never happened? What if Daenerys gave birth to Rhaego, and Drogo was still alive. See a possible life the Targaryen sisters would've had in the Khalasar. As the Dothraki Moon Festival is fast approaching, Alysanne is not sure to partake. Can Jorah protect her through these heated times or does Drogo and Daenerys have something up their sleeve?**

**Also due to the Corona Virus, I have more free time. I wish everyone to be safe and careful. Make sure to wash your hands.**

**Thank your for reading and please leave a review.**


	87. Chapter 87: We Need to Talk

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 87: We Need to Talk**

_Alysanne's POV_

"You must wake," Ser Barristan said.

I turned around after petting Viserion, "Will I ever see you again?"

Ser Barristan stepped forward as he rested his hand over my heart, "I shall always be with you. You may not see me. You may not hear me. But I will always be there."

"I will name a son after you," I promised.

"I doubt Jorah would approve," Ser Barristan chuckled.

I stared at him confused. Ser Barristan cradled my cheek, staring deep into my eyes. He was the third father to me. An advisor, mentor, friend, and father. The only person I had left of my childhood—a protector from afar.

"No matter what, find happiness," he whispered. "However, there will be one more suffering before you reach true happiness."

"What is that that will bring sorrow?" I asked.

"I cannot say, but when it does happen, remember who you are not what they expect you to become," he added.

I tried to speak lost for words.

"Tell Daenerys she is not to blame herself for my death. I died with honor," Ser Barristan leaned down and pecked my forehead. "Farewell, my daughter. There shall be a rebirth for all."

Before I could speak, I felt the pull of waking. I reached out, not wanting to say goodbye. Yet Ser Barristan stood there with a smile as reality took hold.

**.o0o.**

My eyes fluttered, trying to gain strength to open. Using my other senses, my location was warm—the sound of a fire crackling off in the distance, along with two people softly talking. The warmth of blankets and furs on top while a bed underneath. The scent of blood, herbs, and wood filled the air. My body felt sore, my left arm tied to my chest. My right ankle elevated up.

I groaned, my body shifting from discomfort.

The voices went silent, as footsteps followed. Not a second longer, someone took my right hand. It took me a moment to recognize those calloused fingers.

"Jorah?" I mumbled.

"I'm here," Jorah assured, squeezing my hand.

"Easy, Dragoness, you struck your head hard, so your sight is not strong," a female voice said. It was the Shadowbinder, Quaithe.

"What happened?" I mumbled my voice hoarse.

"Help her sit," Quaithe said.

Strong hands carefully helped me sit up while a cup was brought to my lips.

"Drink this," Quaithe said. "Tis but water."

I was hesitant, yet my throat and mouth were dry. Slowly I drank it.

"During your confrontation with the Ice Dragon, you struck the beast in the heart. The collision caused you to fall, in which Viserion caught you, but crashed in the Wolfswood." Quaithe explained. "You suffered physical trauma and used a lot of dragon magic. Death was near, but Ser Jorah and I managed to stop it."

"The . . . Dead?" I asked.

"Gone," Jorah answered. "Jon killed the Night King breaking the curse. We have won."

I squeezed his hand, "Dany?"

"She is alive, along with Missandei and Grey Worm," he confirmed. "However, Ser Barristan did not make it."

"He died… protecting… Dany," I said.

Jorah tensed, wondering how I know.

"Ser Barristan came to her," Quaithe said.

Slowly my eyes grew stronger as I open my lids. The world was still hazy, spinning slightly. The room was dimmed, as the only light has given was from the fireplace. I groaned for everything still hurts from this massive migraine.

"Easy," Jorah murmured. "Do not push yourself."

"I shall make fresh tea to ease the pain," Quaithe announced.

She walked over to the fireplace.

I continued to hold on to Jorah's hand, "I'm sorry."

"I won't say I was pleased about it," he murmured. "But I understand, you did it to protect everyone."

I nodded slowly.

"Just don't do it again," he warned.

"Not… planning on it," I muttered. "One Ice Dragon …is enough."

Jorah nodded in agreement, "They are calling you Dragon Slayer."

I scowled at such a name. "A dragon of fire… is not the same as a dragon of ice."

"Agreed," he said. "Varys is trying to whisper a better title."

"The dragons?" I asked.

"All three are injured and are being tended to. Viserion and Rhaegal will have a longer recovery," He reported. "But now you need to rest."

"No…there are people I need to talk too," I said.

Ser Barristan wanted me to seek forgiveness. Ever since arriving in the North, I haven't been courteous towards my council. I've treated Tyrion poorly the moment I saw Ser Jaime. I knew Cersei wouldn't send her army. However, the moment I saw Ser Jaime arrive, all the negative emotions, the dark trauma, and manipulation stirred. The man who killed my Father and let my family be slaughtered. After talking with Ser Jaime, getting the truth, I realized I need to let the past go. I will always love my mother, Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon. I shall honor Rhaegar in the man he almost became to be while respecting Viserys and Father since trauma and jealousy lead them to madness. They are dead. Nothing can bring them back. Not even my distant uncles who have perished by age and magic.

The only family I had left was Dany and . . . Jon. My nephew, who has been separated from us because of King Robert. Bastard or not, he is still my blood. Let alone a possible family of my own as I held onto the hand who could provide it. Therefore, I need to make amends with my council. If I am to be Queen, I need to respect my council. The Mad King didn't, and they betrayed him. Therefore, I must not hold the same disregard.

"You will, once you have gained your strength," he assured me.

"How long… have I've been out?" I asked.

"Two days," he answered. "There shall be a funeral tomorrow."

"I must attend," I said.

"And you shall, but you must rest." He insisted,

Quaithe returned as she pressed the cup against my lips, "Drink. It shall take the pain away."

Unable to resist, I took a few sips. My strength was leaving me as I fell asleep again while holding onto Jorah's hand.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah watched as Alysanne fell unconscious. The sweat covered her body from the fever she had. Fortunately, the fever has broken. Thanks to the marking from Quaithe painting that covered her skin. Whatever magic Quaithe did saved his beloved. As much as he doesn't trust magic.

"In a few hours, she will wake and gain more strength," Quaithe assured.

"Will there be any more death for her?" Jorah asked.

"There is but one," Quaithe said. "And that death will happen surrounded by her children and grandchildren."

Jorah sighed in relief, knowing Alysanne will not die so soon.

"However, there is one suffering she must endure," Quaithe added. "One, you must be there when it happens."

"And what will happen?" he asked.

"I cannot say," she answered.

Jorah sighed, for there has been enough death and suffering. Alysanne did not need anymore. He sighed yet again, as he adjusted Alysanne in a comfortable position. Afterward, he sat down. Bandages cover his arm, along with ointment on his cheek. By the gods and the Qohorik Smith in crafting his armor protected him. Any of his previous armor would have him killed.

There is a time for recovering and mourning. No one is ready for another battle. The Night King has weakened everyone. Their numbers have dwindled, the Dothraki suffering the most. So, heading South now is not advisable. Hopefully, Alysanne can see that. Especially with the damage, he could see. Bruises were covering Alysanne's body. Bandages around her torso where a laceration was. How she was not dead is a miracle since Alysanne had inherited her mother's condition.

Unless, of course, Alysanne no longer desires to be Queen of Westeros. He knew of his lover's deepest desire, how she dreamt of being married to a man she loves, a family, and simple life. Not a life of looking over her shoulder in fear. If Alysanne prefers that life, he will honor it. If she wants to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms or Meereen, he will stand by her side. All that matters is her happiness and health. The only thing that had held her back was the Second-Long Night. Now that is over; it is time to move on.

No doubt, House Targaryen has redeemed itself. At least in the North.

Jorah remained where he was—dozing off now and then. He hardly gets enough sleep. When Quaithe finished saving Alysanne's life, he had been by her side. He hardly left unless to update Daenerys and the Small Council. He could hear Quaithe wandered around the room, on occasion, checking Alysanne's condition.

He wonders why Quaithe has helped them throughout these years. Since Qarth, they were strangers.

Quaithe warned them of the Warlocks and told them where the dragons where. The second time, at the Orange Shores, where the Shadowbinder told him of Alysanne's curse, dying by the Warlocks sleep spell. With her magic, he managed to guide Alysanne in the right direction and postpone the Greyscale. And lastly, Quaithe arrived with the Fiery Hand and Melisandre. She used Shadow magic to aid the living and saved Alysanne once more. Why? Why did she do all this? What is there to gain.

Was it the prophecy he kept hearing in Volantis?

"The Seed of Ice for the Womb of Fire. A dynasty like no other."

It was clear Alysanne was the Womb of Fire.

But who is the Seed of Ice?

This union will become a better dynasty.

The future is undetermined. All that matters is surviving.

It would be a few hours before Alysanne woke up. Her sight better, yet the exhausted still remains. She asked him to get Tyrion first. He was surprised, thinking she wanted to speak with Daenerys, but he understood. So, getting up, he left the room while Quaithe got her decent, which he appreciates since he doesn't like seeing his lover exposed to other men despite her being Valyrian descent.

He headed downstairs to Tyrion's room, knocking on the door. It took a few moments before Tyrion answered the door.

"She wants to speak with you," Jorah said.

Tyrion's eyes widen," She's awake?"

"She is, but don't excite her," he warned.

Tyrion nodded, not wanting to overwhelm the Queen in her state.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Quaithe helped me put on my robe and my hair in a loose braid. I noticed it was late in the hour, yet I have a feeling Tyrion was still awake. There was a knock on the door. Securing my robe and sitting up straight, I stared at the door.

"Enter," I said.

The door opened as Tyrion entered with Jorah. Tyrion seemed nervous, afraid I would strip his title as Hand of the Queen. My behavior has not been appropriate towards him since Ser Jaime's arrival. The two came over, as Jorah sat down though gave space while Tyrion came forward.

"Your Grace," Tyrion said with a bow. "You've summoned me."

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath. "Tyrion, I owe you an apology."

This baffled Tyrion, not expecting it, "For what, your Grace?"

"For my behavior towards you, it was not appropriate," I explained.

"Your Grace, I have failed you as your Hand. You had every right to be upset with me. I should've known Cersei would not send her army and leave us for the slaughter," he said.

I shook my head, "I knew your sister wouldn't send her army."

His eyes widen.

"She held the same look the Three Masters did," I said. "But when I saw your brother, I just snapped. I ask for your forgiveness. It is not how I want to act as Queen."

Tyrion came over and took my hand, "Apology accepted. You being aware of your flaws shows you are a better ruler."

I nodded, giving a small smile.

"It will take some time before we plan ahead," I said. "A council meeting the day after tomorrow."

Tyrion nodded, "I shall let the others know."

"And Tyrion, I will need that brain of yours," I said.

Tyrion nodded in understanding. Although, I'm not sure if I want to continue the path as Queen. My destiny was to fight in the Long Night. Now that the Army of the Dead has been defeated. I'm not sure if I wanted to be Queen. However, I made a promise to several houses that I would. Let alone; there is a tyrant Queen who needs to be removed. It was clear that Cersei Lannister has no claim or right to the Iron Throne. She has slaughtered thousands of people because of her secret. Therefore, she must face her crimes.

But the question should be who takes the Iron Throne…

In other words, I need to have a talk with Jon and Daenerys.

A serious talk.

**.o0o.**

It would be a few more hours later in the morning hours when Daenerys and Jon arrived. In the room were the only person who knows Jon's secret. Only Jon, Daenerys, Jorah and , Tyrion, and Quaithe were excluded from the conversion. But I have a feeling the Shadowbiner knows from her clairvoyant abilities.

Not even a second, once in the room, Daenerys rushed over, giving me a hug. I groan, feeling pain around my ribs from her bear hug. Immediately, Daenerys pulled back, "Sorry."

"It's alright," I groaned. "I'm just not durable right now."

Daenerys gave a smile as she sat on the bed, taking my good hand. My attention turned to Jon, seeing he was exhausted. A nice cut on his right cheek and bruising around his neck. The Dragon Spells had an effect as well, seeing the possible damage Rhaegal went through. In the end, I still saw my brother standing there despite his coloring.

"What we are about to say, stays between the four us until a decision is made," I said, which everyone nodded.

"As you may have known, when the Warlocks poisoned me, my soul was sent to the Veil in which I encounter Rhaegar. Ser Jorah, was there, as he saw the last dragon. His face etched in our memory. Before we returned to the living, his last words to me were," 'There are three dragons left in the world. The last three Targaryens.' And now the last three dragons are in this room. However, I do not know the details on you Jon. So tell me, how did you come to find out about your parentage?"

Jon took a deep breath, "My brother Bran saw it in the past while my friend Sam confirmed it in a Septon's journal. Daenerys already knows…Rhaegar and Lyanna are my parents. Rhaegar had an annulment with Elia Martel and married Lyanna in secret. My real name is Aenar Targaryen."

I inhaled sharply for the betrayal Elia went through. All because Rhaegaar craved to have three children. A second daughter, his own Visenya. However, the gods gave him a son. A war due to the wood witch's prophecy. The Prince that was promised.

"You are my blood, and therefore my nephew," I said. "And now the questions come to the line of succession. By the laws of men, a son comes first before the daughter."

Jon stepped forward, "Alysanne, I . . . I do not want to be King of the Seven Kingdoms. All my life has been a lie. As much as it pleases me to know I am not a bastard . . . I cannot take what doesn't feel my own right. You and Daenerys fought this way to come back home. And here I am, stepping in the way."

"You don't want the Seven Kingdoms?" Jorah asked.

"No, I don't," Jon answered. "All I care about is the North and my family…the Starks."

"But we are your family now," Daenerys said.

"Dany …it's too much to grasp under short notice," Jon tried to reason.

"That brings up another thing," I said, getting their attention.

All eyes were on me.

"When Viserys died, I made a sacred vow to the gods that House Targaryen will never perform incest again. I swore to our ancestors in the Veil as well. A promise I must forever keep." I said, staring sternly into the young couple. "Whatever relationship you two have, must come to an end."

"Alys," Daenerys begged.

"I mean it," I scolded. "Incest leads to three paths: Medical complication, infertility, or madness. I have the same blood disorder as mother, Daenerys. She also dealt with fertility problems that lead to nine miscarriages. Five Targaryens became mad. Although most were driven into madness, there are those born with it. Therefore, this affair needs to stop. You can love each other as family, but nothing more."

Daenerys eyes widen, for she knows I was serious. Incest has ruined me. My fertility is complicated. I bruise easily and take longer to heal. I was forced into an incestual marriage that lead to nothing but abuse. I know Jon is a better man than Viserys. However, he is still my family's blood. The same blood of my parents lingers in his veins. If Jon had been a cousin, maybe I would have allowed. In the end, he is my nephew. There have been Targaryens that married their nephews and nieces. Yet, in order to break the curse, new blood must join in.

"I'm sorry," I said. "And if you do consider it. I will never approve or allow this union."

Daenerys looked down. She remembers back in our campaign, where I told her I would allow her to love whoever she wanted. But I will have the final say in the marriage since I was the head of House Targaryen until now. And even though Jon can veto me, being the male heir, I have the advantage of being the face of House Targaryen. Unless Jon makes his true identity known, the only way House Targaryen can gain the respect of the people is to put an end on the practice of incest.

"Very well," Jon agreed.

Daenerys eyes widen. No doubt she was hurt by this. But she needs to understand where we are coming from. As much we can love some with romantic infatuations, there needs to be boundaries. I'm trying to save our bloodline. So there can be no more Mad Kings or women who go through complications.

"But I have to tell my family," Jon added.

Daenerys and I looked at him.

"You can't," Daenerys nearly barked.

"They are my family," Jon defended. "They have the right to know. They've been a victim of this secret as we have."

"I understand and I respect your decision. I only have one request," I said.

Jon stared at me, listening.

"I ask that you wait until Daenerys and I reclaim King's Landing." I said. "The majority of our life, we never had a home. Travel from one city to another. Our home has been taken from us. So, I ask that you wait to tell your sisters, once we take back King's Landing."

The White Wolf paused, taking a moment to hear my request. The only response was a nod and saying, "You have my word."

I want to secure the Iron Throne before the truth comes out. Although now the secret has known to six people. It must remain like this until we can figure this out. In the end, the Targaryen Dynasty shall return. With a dragon in the North and one in the South.

"We will discuss more later," Jon said. "We need to prepare for the next step."

* * *

**We all nodded. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	88. Chapter 88: Tears of Sorrow and Feasts o

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_A/N: So, I noticed in some reviews that people are not happy with Alysanne for stopping the practice of Incest between Daenerys and Jon. First of all, it has been mentioned throughout the story Alysanne is against incest since the beginning. She was forced into an incestuous marriage and is aware of the complications. Alysanne has her mothers' condition of bruising easily and longer recovery (After the Daznak pit). Also, she knows that incest in the Targaryen Family holds a possibility of madness and infertility or pregnancy complications. Queen Rhaella had nine miscarriages. Nine miscarriages. She is a matter of fact, is trying to prevent history from repeating itself. I'm not putting 21st-century ideology in this story. Alysanne did mention if Jon had been their cousin, she would have allowed it. She is against brother/sister, niece/uncle, aunt/nephew and parent/child relationships._**

**_Another thing, one review mention Alysanne is allowing Dany to marry anyone and now is preventing it. NO. I wrote that Alysanne says Dany can be with anyone sexually. Still, if Dany were to marry, Alysanne must approve the match or not. She was not strict when Dany and Daario were in a relationship._**

**_Language_**

Common Tongue

_Valyrian/thought_

* * *

**Chapter 88: Tears of Sorrow and Feasts of Joy**

_Alysanne's POV_

Three days have passed since the Long Night ended. All the remaining survivors gathered at the battlefield where funeral pyres with all the fallen were laid to rest. Three long days of dismantling the fortifications and gathering lumber from the Wolfswood. Barely three days of collecting the names of the fallen soldiers and warriors. Men and women who fought for the next light. As time went on, you could see in the many pyres contained more Dothraki and Unsullied. A report hasn't been made yet of the total, but it is clear who lost the most. Daenerys and I lost the most. As the numerous pyres were filled with Dothraki bloodriders and Unsullied soldiers.

I walked over to the pyre where men from my company were being put as Ser Barristan laid there in peaceful eternal slumber. Ser Barristan the Bold, a knight who has served four Kings and one Queen. King Aegon V, King Jaeherys II, King Aerys II, King Robert, and lastly, Queen Alysanne. Never has he ever considered serving King Joffrey due to the dishonor the boy gave the most loyal of knights. Barristan's words echoing in my head, stating:

"I have served a Great King, a good king, a mad king, and a terrible King."

I know I made him proud since he told me in death. However, standing here watching over his body, I could not stop the tears from falling. A loyal knight, friend, mentor, and father. He became the father I truly needed. He was there for all of us. For Daenerys. For Grey Worm. And for me. He lay there with a sword in hand, waiting to protect his family, clad in his armor. The cuts are shown on his face. A man of age would seek retirement. Put down his sword and own lands. But he kept to his vows of the royal guard for House Targaryen.

I leaned over, pressing a kiss on Ser Barristan's forehead.

_"I'll always be there,"_ Ser Barristan whispered.

When I pulled back, Daenerys came over to kiss Ser Barristan farewell. I pray she understands that his death was not her fault. We are forever indebted to Ser Barristan the Bold and to the fallen. Aggo, a trusted bloodrider who has been with us since joining the Khalasar, fell victim to the war. He was once my khas, serving us, protecting us. He died…being torn apart. And he was not the last…

Everyone was morning, giving their final farewells. Lady Sansa mourned for the loss of Theon Greyjoy. A man who struggled to figure out which house he belonged too. He was of two cultures, though lost, and made many mistakes, yet he has redeemed himself. Samwell and Dickon Tarly mourned for their father, Lord Randyll Tarly. He died, protecting his sons.

Once everyone was done in saying their goodbyes, we returned to the gathering. Everywhere standing by their Kingdoms. Separate, yet equal. As House Targaryen and House Stark stood next to one another. Jorah stood beside me, with Missandei and Grey Worm behind us, it gave him cover to wrap his arm around my waist providing support. Only five people know I was still healing, my body protesting to lie down and rest. But I had to be here.

Amongst the crowd were the Starks, all three children with their cousin. Next to them, Lord Royce, Ser Brienne, and…Ser Jaime. Lady Lyanna was there with her men, though she sat in a wheelchair. Along with the Wildlings, Northmen, and Knights of the Vale. On my side was my council, Ser Garlan with the Reachmen, Ser Gareth with the Stormlanders, Dothraki, and Unsullied. We all stood there, staring at the many pyres holding the fallen warriors who fought for humanity. By each pyre was a solider representing the culture. There were many Unsullied and Dothraki out there.

Jon stepped forward, addressing everyone, "We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters. To our fathers and mothers. To our friends. Our fellow men and women who set aside their differences . . . to fight together . . . and die together, so that others might live. Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and our honor to keep them alive in memory . . . for those who come after us . . . and those who come after them . . . for as long as men draw breath. They were the shields that guarded the realms of men. And we shall never see their like again."

All of us were the Night's Watch that faithful night.

Now the Night's Watch is no more.

Everyone in leadership was handed torches. Daenerys and I accepted it, as did Jon, Sansa, Arya, Tormund, Lord Royce, Ser Gareth, Ser Garlan, and Lady Lyanna. We walked forth to the closest pyre of the officers and men/women who fought with a purpose. I stepped towards the Pyre where Ser Barristan was with my Unsullied officer. He was of the Seven, a Stormlander, and yet he served House Targaryen. He laid in his armor with the sword he had since Astapor, surrounded by the Unsullied officers he trained. I set the torch on the wood and watch the fire set ablaze, consuming the fallen.

Daenerys went to the Dothraki, where her truest bloodriders and Kos were put to rest. Ser Gareth went to the pyre that held the Stormlands soldiers. Ser Garlan for the Reach. Lord Royce for the Vale of Arryn. Lady Lyanna, was pushed forward for Bear Island. Sansa for the North. Jon with the Night's Watch, Arya for the volunteers who hold no ties to Westeros, Tormund for the Wildings.

Grey Worm shouted in Valyrian to light the Pyres. Kovarro did the same in Dothraki. In a chain reaction, the men standing by the pyre lit them, putting the fallen to their eternal slumber. As for us leaders, we returned to the audience and observe the final farewell to the fallen warriors. I stood there praying to the Seven, followed by the Lady of Spears, giving my men their proper funeral. In the North, they burn the dead. Only a select few are given the exception to be buried. However, the lands were cover in snow and the earth hard as stone. Thus, all were cremated.

Quaithe stood there. The five hundred fiery hand soldiers also perished. She was not of R'hllor religion. That was Melisandre, who died in spiritual circumstances. But softly, if you paid attention, she whispered the Lord of Light's prayer to give the five-hundred men their spiritual respects.

No longer was the night dark and full of terrors.

The terrors were gone, but the scars remained.

Both physically and mentally.

**.o0o.**

After the funeral, many turned in to their assigned quarters to rest. There shall be a feast tonight. A tradition after a significant battle. However, no one is in the mood. Jorah helped me to my chambers. The moment we reached the door, one of Lyanna's advisors came over, saying Lady Mormont wanted a word with Jorah. I let him go. Jorah was hesitant, but I assure him that I was going to rest. He nodded, leaving with the advisor.

I enter my chambers and carefully removed my coat. I groaned, feeling protest in my left shoulder. The dislocation was rough since Quaithe put it back while I was asleep. The recovery will take longer since there was bruising. Once the coat was off, I put the sling back on. I sighed, sitting down on the bed. Usually, Missandei would be helping me, as she did with getting dress and brushing my hair. But I let her spend time with Grey Worm.

Feeling exhausted, I leaned down, reaching for my boots only to cry out from the laceration on my stomach. An intensive pain as if stabbed in the stomach. I shot back up and cry, "Seven Hells!"

Suddenly there was a knock, "Alysanne?"

I sighed, "Come in, Dany."

The door opened as Daenerys came in with a concerned look, "Are you alright?"

"No," I mumbled.

"Do I need to get Quaithe or Maester Walkon?" she asked.

"I need my boots off," I answered in defeat.

She looked at me for a moment before chuckling.

"What?" I replied.

"You…for a second, I had a memory back in Braavos when you lost your shoe," she said.

I snorted from that one time my shoe fell into the lagoon after tripping. Ser Willem and Viserys turned around, asking what was wrong. I pouted, looking down, saying, "I lost my shoe." Viserys made a comment, yet Ser Willem came over picking me up.

Daenerys came over as she knelt down and started untying the laces of my boots. I stared at her, knowing I hurt her this morning. How I refused her from having a relationship with Jon. It goes against my promise that she can be with any man. Although I have a say in the marriage. Even with Daenerys believing she is barren…I just can't accept it. Mother was believed to be barren after Rhaegar since any pregnancy she had led to miscarriage until Viserys was born. I think with us being products of incest, it has made conception difficult. Not a curse by Mirri Maz Durr. If she and Jon were to get together and have a child…then that child will go through complications.

I place a hand on her shoulder, "Dany…I'm sorry."

She looked up at me with watery eyes. "I just don't understand."

_"He's our nephew,"_ I said in Valyrian.

_"Rhaenyra married her uncle, and our ancestors from Valyria did the same,"_ she countered.

_"The magic of Valyria is no longer with us. Even when the Dragons now roam the skies, it is not the same magic,"_ I tried to explain.

_"But you said, most madness is made just like father."_ She insisted.

_"Some are made, but others are not,"_ I explained. "_Viserys forced me in an incestuous marriage, all I felt was disgust. Our parents were forced into marriage. Neither of them loved each other. It led to abuse. Only our grandparents had a happy marriage, going against our great-grandparent's wishes. Remember your lessons, many incestuous marriages were terrible. It might have worked with Jaeherys and Alysanne, but it put a risk."_

_"But…"_

_"Dany, I made a sacred vow. I faced Aegon the Unlikely in the Veil and told him I will stop the practice. I can't break a promise to him after many of our ancestors helped me get back home to you. They kept the Warlocks away from my spirit. It is a dept I must pay."_

She took a deep breath, "_For once, I felt something more than Daario and Drogo."_

I sighed, _"I know Jon made you feel special deep down. Remember what Tyrion said, there will be many men who will love you, and they won't be the last."_

Daenerys nodded sadly.

_"The next man you fall for, I promise I will not hold you back. Hell, if you like, you can marry Daario."_

She snorted as she got both boots off. We laid down on the bed, cuddling some like we used to as children. She laid on my right side, her head on my chest. Meanwhile, I comb my fingers through her hair that was not braided.

_"Do you think Jon will keep his word and not tell his…siblings?"_ She asked.

_"I believe so,"_ I answered.

_"But he has a better claim. What if the Starks don't share their secret? What if Sansa or Arya spread the word. The realm would think a Targaryen with mixed blood is better than a pureblood."_

_"I have faith in Jon, he shall rule the North while we reign the South."_

_"You deserve to rule the Seven Kingdoms."_

I smiled softly, wishing I could tell her ruling the Seven Kingdoms doesn't hold the same desire like it used to. Right now, I was content, that I completed my destiny in fighting in the Long Night and stopping the Night King. Let alone the promise made to Ser Barristan. That I should find happiness. Only I made a promise to many lords that I will take the Iron Throne and, in exchange, give them justice. Already setting arrangements on who gets which lands. Being a Just Queen, there has to be justice in the crimes in what Cersei has done. I promised Lady Olenna to give justice to her son and two grandchildren. Along with Prince Doran for his family, who has been wronged.

If only I could disappear. Abdicate and allow Daenerys to be Queen of the South. Although, a part of me can tell she is not ready to be Queen of the Six Kingdoms. She spent the last few years on the concept of power and strength. Not politics. Then again, our heritage has been lost to use since Robert Baratheon stole the throne.

In the end, we have to keep our promises.

Despite how much we want to control our lives.

History has its eyes on us.

The last three Targaryens.

**.o0o.**

Missandei came to help us dress for tonight's feast. Daenerys wore a red gown while I wore the usual black one. We join the Starks in the Great Hall, where the main feast will take place amongst the Lords and selected members. At the main table, Jon sat centered on the table, Daenerys and I on one side while Sansa, and Bran on the other. Arya was absent, as Jon apologized, saying she is not one for parties. Not that I could blame her. Daenerys, who sat next to me, seemed out of it. I leaned forward, resting a hand on her shoulder to be sure if she was all right. She merely nodded.

The atmosphere wasn't as festive for the feast. A few conversations and small toasts. I looked around, seeing my council quiet as they eat. The same on the Starks Council. I tried to think of a way to resolve the situation. However, I was not one for these types of festivities. The introvert in me is making a comeback after years of being dormant. Let alone the exhaustion. Even after being unconscious for two days, my body just wants to lie down and sleep.

Already I can sense eyes on me. Staring at the source to be Varys and Jorah. Jorah, I understand, but Varys had my concern. The Spider has been quiet as of late. Hopefully, tomorrow he'll be singing what his Little Birds have told him over the past few days.

One man stood up from the crowd as he made his way out. It took me a moment to recognize him to be Gendry Waters. Ser Jorah had mentioned the boy and being occupied in preparation for the Great War, I had not taken the time to talk to him. From what I have been told, he is Robert Baratheon's bastard. A Dragon Seed of Aegon V's bloodline. As much as I despised the Usurper, I will not hold ill favor towards his son.

"Gendry," I called out. "That's right, isn't it?"

Silence engulfed the Great Hall. This startled the young man as he came forward. He gave a sort bow.

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied.

"You're Robert Baratheon's son," Daenerys said.

Gendry nodded.

"You are aware he took my family's throne and tried to have us murdered?" she continued.

"I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead," he replied.

"Yes, he's dead," Daenerys murmured. "His brothers are too. Along with his niece."

"Therefore, leaving the Baratheon name to extinction," I inserted myself.

Silence continued.

"Unless I legitimize you," I added.

His eyes widen while murmuring erupted.

"Ser Gareth Wensington," I called out.

Ser Gareth came forward, which he gave a bow standing next to Gendry.

"Both of you have served the realm in these dark times," I said. "when the time comes, I promise you this. Ser Gareth of House Wensington, you shall be the Lord of Storms End and Warden of the Stormlands. As for you, Gendry, you shall be Lord of Tempest Hall. Because that is what I have made you."

There was another reason why House Wensington sided with House Targaryen in fighting for the Long Night. I promised Ser Gareth, whose House was descended from House Durrandon Storm's End and Wardens of the Stormlands. In a previous conversation, I asked him about the remaining Houses. Thanks to the War of the Five Kings, many Houses are going extinct and lands open. Some may think I'm cruel of taking Gendry's birthright once legitimized. However, I need to remind you that House Baratheon will never rise again. It is a fair land for a new generation of the Stag.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Ser Gareth said.

Gendry, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. Either because he was legitimized with a respectful name or the fact, he is a Lord with lands. He glances at Ser Davos, silently asking him if he was dreaming. The Onion Knight stood up with his glass.

"To Lord Gendry Baratheon of Tempest Hall," Ser Davos praised.

Everyone stood up, raising their goblets, "To Gendry!"

Daenerys and I smiled, raising our glass to the young lord. A distant cousin and ally. Gendry, flustered, looked up seeing Jon offering him a drink. He came over accepting the goblet while everyone cheered for him. The Stag turned around facing the others and raised the goblet in cheer, which everyone praised and took a sip. Jon glanced over Daenerys and me, giving a smile of appreciation.

Tyrion got up from his seat, waddling over between Dany and I. He spoke softly so only we could hear.

"A fitting reward for a hero," Tyrion murmured. "And a Lord of Tempest Hall who will be forever loyal to you. And a Lord of Storm's Ends."

"See?" Daenerys murmured. "You're not the only one who's clever."

"And bringing joy to this feast," I added softly.

Tyrion smiled softly, glancing at us until the smile dropped for a moment. I follow his stare, seeing a cautious Sansa. No doubt she will be careful until the contract is made between Jon and I. Tomorrow, we will discuss the plans for our possible two kingdoms. Tyrion excused himself to the back, stating he was getting more wine.

The feast continued this time in a much merrier way. I remained where I was, people-watching everyone. Seeing the Lords of the North and allies mingle about. I also spotted Jorah talking with the men of Bear Island. He smiled as if talking to an old friend. The sight warmed my heart. Maybe I can have a word with Jon and Lady Mormont to pardon Jorah. Even though I would have for the South on his past transgressions since he redeemed himself in Essos. But to allow him to go back to Bear Island…back home…is all I ask. At the beginning of our relationship, he talked about home.

Suddenly I had a sinking feeling in my chest. Wondering where his future lies. He told me he no longer cared about Bear Island, for I was his home. Only I believe actions over words.

Time seems to pass, as Bran excused himself rolling to the fireplace. Tormund and some of his men and lords came over. The Wildling leader shoved a horn filled with alcohol to Jon.

"All of it!" Tormund playfully commanded.

"No, not in one go." Jon protested kindly.

"Go on. I believe in you," Sansa encouraged.

"We have to celebrate our victory," Tormund insisted.

"Vomiting is not celebrating," Jon chuckled at his Wildling friend's behavior.

Tormund pulled back, giving a questionable look, "Yes, it is."

Everyone in the group laughed.

"Ah, to the Dragon Sisters!" Tormund cheered, raising his horn.

Everyone raised their goblets with a cheer.

Daenerys stood as well, raising her goblet, "To Jon Snow, the Hero of Winterfell!"

That made everyone stand with a cheer.

The Wildlings were chanting as Tormund chugged down his wine. Everyone laughed and cheered on that. Everyone laughed. Even Daenerys and I couldn't help but smile at the wild man's antics. Jon turned around with a smile. Sansa smiled at well, till spotting it. Although our smiles were familiar, the She-wolf saw differently that she stood up and left. I sighed, for I genuinely want to make peace between our Houses.

I took another sip of wine. It was strange to drink wine after being sober for almost a year. Yes, I have taken a few sips now and then. But I was probably on my second goblet. Already warmth could be felt in my system, and it was not from the fire.

"I saw him riding that thing," Tormund said.

"We all did," Ser Davos assured.

Tormund shook his head, "No. No. I saw him riding that thing."

"That's right, you did," Ser Davos confirmed.

"I did," Tormund said, then turned to Jon, who was amused by the drunk man. "That's why we all agreed to follow him. That's the kind of man he is." He wrapped his arm around Jon. "He's little . . ." which we all chuckle. ". . . But he's strong. Strong enough to befriend an enemy and get murdered for it! Most people get bloody murdered, they stay that way," Tormund said, spilling his ale in the air and smack Jon hard in the back who grunted. "Not this one."

Everyone laughed.

"Yeah, I didn't have much say in that," Jon said.

I frown slightly from the thought of the Warlocks poisoning.

"Ah! He comes back and keeps fighting." Tormund continued. "Here, North of the Wall, and then back here again. He keeps fighting. He climbed on a fucking dragon and fought. What kind of person climbs on a fucking dragon? Oh, wait, I DID! The first Wilding to ride a dragon!"

Everyone laughed.

Jon glanced over to us. Yes, Tormund was praising the King in the North.

"But that's not all. He killed the Night King!" Tormund praised. "The fucking Ice King."

"I'm not the only one who fought," Jon said. "Daenerys helped destroy the wights and Alysanne-"

"And the Dragon Queen slayed the Ice Dragon!" Tormund interrupted. "A Mad Woman to throw herself through the air to kill a dragon! All hail Alysanne Frozenfang!"

He shoved his hand out from his pocket, dropping something in Jon's hand. The wildling stumbled around, putting something in Daenerys's hand and another in mine.

"Something to remember your dragon battle," he slurred.

We opened our hands to see what it was. All three of us held crystal-like objects that took the form of animal teeth. Daenerys and Jon had one, while two were in my hands.

"Are these dragon teeth?" Daenerys asked.

"Aye, pried them out of the frozen bastard's mouth. A trophy for ye," he answered.

Daenerys looked up, giving somewhat of a smile.

I stared at the wildling, "Thank you."

Tormund nodded as he turned to Jon wrapping his arm around him. Dragging the poor man in another rant of a story. I turned to Daenerys, seeing her back with that distant look. She was used to us being the center of attention. Ever since arriving in the North, the attention has been on Jon. He was King of the North, and this was not our kingdom. The White Wolf had more encounters with the threat beyond the Wall than my visions. He has defeated the Night King. All we can do is smile and plan for our own true victory.

Suddenly Daenerys stood up. Varys being a gentleman, stood up as well. I reached to grab her hand, but she walked away before I could speak. I sighed, watching her leave as did Varys.

It wasn't long when Tormund left Jon alone.

"Sorry about him," Jon said.

"He's a good friend," I noted.

"Aye, he is. Loud, but good-hearted," he agreed.

"Tomorrow, I would like to speak with you and Sansa on creating a rough draft," I said.

Jon nodded, "Agreed."

I sighed, feeling the exhaustion returning. The wine adding more to it, along with a headache.

"Are you all right?" Jon asked.

"I'm just tired, thank you for asking," I answered.

"No one will hold it against you to rest," he said. "Especially being Frozenfang."

"Well, it's better than Dragon Slayer," I countered.

Jon snorted in agreement.

I tried to stand up only to become light-headed. Jon was quick as he caught me by grabbing my right arm. Immediately Varys was by my side.

"I think that is a clear sign to call it a night," I chuckled softly.

"I'm afraid so," Varys murmured. "Shall I fetch Ser Jorah to escort you to your chambers."

I stared up, seeing my lover staring from a distance with a concerned look. As much as I would want to, we have to keep the charade of him being a knight, and I am his Queen.

"No, I do not want to bother him," I said.

Varys nodded, "Then let me accompany you back."

"Thank you, Varys," I said, then faced my nephew. "Good night, Your Grace."

"Good night, Your Grace," Jon replied back.

Varys and I made our leave. Missandei almost attends, but I told her to enjoy the festivities, especially in Dothraki, to enjoy Grey Worm. She nodded as she sat back down. The walk back to my chambers was silent as Varys walk beside me, making sure I don't collapse.

_"You saw it in her eyes,"_ I whispered in Valyrian.

_"I do not know what you mean,"_ Varys replied.

_"We need to keep a closer eye on my sister,"_ I said_. "The realm comes first."_

Varys nodded, _"And you are still on the right path."_

I nodded as a yawn escaped my lips. We soon reached my chambers. Varys gave a bow before returning to the feast. I entered my chambers and sat down on the bed. Opening my hands, I stared at the two dragon fangs. They were not solid like Viserion's. No, they were almost like crystals, close to quarts. Parts of it being translucent to an opaque in a shade of pale blue. As if I was holding ice. I could still see the Ice Dragon, how it was living ice, with eyes of pale blue crystal, vast translucent wings. The sound of the Targaryen sword lodging into its chest, hearing the sound of the scales crack like glass. A creature was full of rage against humanity for enslaving it and trapped inside the wall.

_"Zaldrīzes dohaeriros iksos daor,"_ I sighed. "A dragon is not a slave."

I cover my mouth as my eyes watered. My men, my Unsullied suffered the most. So many pyres filled with Unsullied soldiers. The men who guarded the gates. Their deaths are on my hands. Many times, I told them they would have a chance to leave, not risk their lives since freeing them from Astapor. There were no contracts, they trusted me as their leader and…I put them to the slaughter.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"It's Ser Jorah," he announced.

I took a moment to wipe my eyes and a few deep breaths to present myself.

"Come in," I said.

Jorah entered the room with a concerned look, "Are you all right?"

"I should start charging people a gold dragon if they keep asking me that," I muttered then sighed. "I'm fine. Just tired."

Jorah nodded as he came over and sat next to me. He noticed the dragon teeth in my hand.

"Tormund got it when they checked the Ice Dragon." I explained.

Jorah nodded as he took my hand taking the teeth away, setting on the nightstand before reclaiming my hand. "I've noticed you were quiet during the feast."

"Could you blame me?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Hopefully the next feast will be better."

"Maybe," I breathed resting my head on his shoulder.

Jorah rubbed my back, "You don't need to act strong in front of me."

Unable to hold it in, the tears started to fall. My Bear being careful held me in his arms as the tears fell. For almost five years since leaving Pentos life was a struggle. The visions, the destiny that Visenya placed on me to stop the Long Night. I have completed my destiny; however, it has cost me my men. How many people died for my cause? This was not the same victory I felt when conquering Yunkai and Meereen. There was no reward.

Now another war is coming because of the promises I made. Death has taken the desire of the Iron Throne. All the years of being a Queen doesn't hold interest. I just wanted to dispatch my army and run away from the very origin of my ancestors. For if I continued playing this Game, I feel like I will lose myself and people that I love.

Jorah knows this. He has seen my deepest desires for a simple life. However, we our bound to our words. Yet Ser Barristan wanted me to be happy. How can I find happiness in a constant cycle of death? How can I be Queen if three hundred years of history weighs on my shoulder?

"We can get through this," Jorah murmured. "Whatever path you choose I'll be right there."

I nodded wiping the tears away, "Can you stay tonight?"

"As you wish," he murmured.

I smiled softly, since it has been a while since he said. Well, just before the battle. The only time we tossed our façade and kissed in the courtyard. My bear, my strong bear.

We changed out of our outer layers and laid in bed. Of course, Jorah locked the door for security. We did nothing intimate, well not sexually. As I laid in his arms with my head against his chest. All I could hear was the fire crackling, his heartbeat and breathing. Along with the distant sound of the feast outdoors. The outside world vanished. It was only us.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys and Jon's POV_

Jon stumbled into his room and sat down on the bed. His head was spinning as he mentally cursed Tormund for making him drink too much. A lot of thoughts were gathering in his head. Ever since joining the Night's Watch, and his first encounters with the wights of his fallen brothers. Ever since watching Craster abandoning his newborn son in the woods, seeing what took the baby, has come to an end. He thought back to his first encounter with the Night King in Hardhome. Now his thoughts linger back to their last encounter in the Godswood.

What the Night King said disturbed him. Mentioning about a cycle and how neither of them should have power. It made him think Bran…or better yet, the Three-Eyed Raven is up to something. Although, the vessel keeps reminding them that he was not Bran. Jon tried hard not to think his younger brother…cousin was dead. Especially what happened to Rickon. What is it about this being that had the Night King set on destroying humanity? Bran says it was history. Destroy the source of history. At this point, Jon needed to keep a closer eye on a possible enemy in his own family.

And that was not the only problem he had. Sam and Bran discovering his true parentage. Therefore, discovering he has two aunts. It makes him feel like a lie. He was a dragon in wolf's clothing. Let alone the fact, he was attracted to his aunt. Daenerys brought something out of him since Ygritte. If they were not blood-related or better yet had been cousin, there could have been something. But at last, any romantic happiness always ends with a broken heart for him.

Tomorrow he will have to face Alysanne and make the truce between House Stark and House Targaryen. He feels like he is betraying one family for the other. Alysanne understands why he was choosing House Stark. It was the only family he knows. He wanted to know more about House Targaryen, the side that is not documented in history. Wanting to know what his father was like? His slain half-siblings. All the relatives that were not the Mad King.

A headache from drinking alcohol throbbed his head as he groaned. No doubt, he will be hungover tomorrow. Maybe he can postpone the meeting in the afternoon instead of the morning. The last thing he wants is throwing up on his aunts.

The door creaked open, catching his attention. He thought it was Sansa or Arya, coming to check on him. It was none other than Daenerys. She had come in to talk with Jon. Throughout the day, she had many thoughts bothering her. Her objective is to speak with Jon. All her life, she knew one thing, and that was the Iron Throne. Although she was second in line…or better yet third in line, she wanted to protect her sister. Alysanne did so much to protect her, and the promise in bringing her home. Now Jon was here, and as much as she had feelings for him, his secret could ruin everything they have done.

"Are you drunk?" Daenerys asked.

Instantly he shot up not expecting her, saying "No," only to stumble a bit followed by a whiplash. "Only a little."

Daenerys gave a small smile before closing the door and walked towards him.

"I didn't know Ser Barristan well…but I know this," Jon started. "If he could have chosen a way to die, it would have been protecting you."

Daenerys eyes water slightly, "He was like a father to me. He loved me, a paternal love. And I loved him dearly." As she walked closer to him, staring into his eyes. "I love you."

Jon was baffled, not expecting it. Daenerys was telling him she loved him. How can this be? They've only known each other for several months, then again, they had their subtle flirting. Along with the four weeks on a ship with secret kisses and open words about themselves. It still wasn't enough to form true love.

Jon, still intoxicated, wrapped his arms around her. Their lips growing closer to one another. Daenerys had a mission. But she also wished for one night with Jon. She knew she was barren, after having sex with Daario so many times no seed could plant in her womb. Thus, a child with any complication could never be born between them. Daenerys will keep her promise to Alysanne, but only for this night, she wanted a taste of what could have been.

Jon leaned some claiming the Khaleesi lips. His thoughts jumbled as the knowledge that she was his aunt was vague. Daenerys kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him. Their lips moving softly against one another. The taste of wine and ale on their tongues. It wasn't long before the kissing grew passionate. Their hands molding around feeling their bodies. His hands in her hair while hers along his chest. The taste reminded her of bitter-sweet chocolate when she was a child in Volantis. A trader from the Summer Isles giving samples of exotic beans that can be an ingredient for sweets. The bitterness for how wrong it was, and the sweetness of her desire.

Her hands worked on his jerkin. Managed to unfasten a few strings as her hands slipped it touching his undershirt and skin. The moment of contact between her hand and his skin snapped Jon out of it. He panted, staring at her.

Forbidden fruit, he thought.

As much as he wanted her, it goes against his religion or any religion or customs. Despite being a Targaryen, it was wrong. Even with the dragon's blood in his veins, he was a wolf first. Let alone the promise he made to Alysanne, including the vow she made to their ancestors to end the practice of incest. He could love Dany as a family and a friend, but nothing more.

He pulled back, creating space between them. Not wanting to stare at the sire, he had his back turned to her.

"I wish you'd never told me," Daenerys sighed.

Jon took a deep breath, he wished Sam never had told him either.

"If I didn't know, I'd be happy right now," she continued, as she sat down on the bed. "I try to forget. Tonight, I did for a while, and then I saw them gathered around you. I saw the way they looked at you. I know that look. So many people have looked at me that way, but never here. Never on this side of the sea."

Jon sighed still keeping his back to her, "I told her I don't want it."

"It doesn't matter what you want," she snapped. "You didn't want to be King in the North. What happens when they demand you press your claim and take what is Alysanne's?"

Jon turned to her, kneeling to her level. "I'll refuse. I serve only the North. Your sister is the Queen of the South. I don't know what else I can say."

Daenerys cradle his face, "You can say nothing. To anyone, ever. Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else. Or it will take on a life of its own, and you won't be able to control it or what it does to people."

Jon pulled back, standing up. Daenerys did the same. She was trying to protect her sister. Her sister, who always protected her. Never having an ounce of true happiness. The hard work Alysanne did to save people. Between seeing Jon and Alysanne ruling, Daenerys would rather have her sister sit on the Iron Throne.

"No matter how many times you refuse, no matter what you swear," she implored, taking his hand. "I want it to be the way it was between us."

She wanted that sweet courtship. The one she never got with Drogo or Daario. If the truth hadn't come out, then an alliance through marriage would have been made. Daenerys would had been happy to marry Jon to secure the North to the Seven Kingdoms. She would've been glad to dispatch her Dothraki forces to be his Queen.

Jon stepped closer, taking Daenerys' hand, "I have to tell Sansa and Arya."

Daenerys felt her heart sank.

Daenerys growled, "Sansa will want to see us gone, and you on the Iron Throne."

"She won't," he promised though gave her a sharp tone of a warning.

"She's not the girl you grew up with," she jabbed. "Not after what she's seen, not after what they've done to her."

"I owe them the truth," he said.

"Even if the truth destroys us?" she asked.

"It won't," he assured.

"It will," she sobbed, wrapping an arm around him. "I've never begged for anything, but I'm begging you. Don't do this. Please."

Jon cradle her cheek, "I'm sorry. But they are my family. We can live together."

Daenerys gave him a stern look. "We can. I've just told you how."

Jon pulled his hands away and stared at her. Daenerys, with an emotionless expression, left his chambers. A lover's death. When people had decided that love and duty can never work with the customs, they grew up in. Either Jon accepts his Targaryen family and keeps the secret or be too noble for his Stark family that will get more lives killed. The feelings for the White Wolf linger, yet the broken heart remained.

Jon took her words like a warning, but her tone was a threat. The Mother of Dragon's threatened his family. Sansa, Arya, and Bran, though biologically, his cousins were still siblings to him. Jon will always keep his promise he made to the Dragon Queen to not tell them until House Targaryen reclaimed King's Landing. It is the least he could do, after everything the Dragon Sisters have done. He will support both of his families. But only on his terms.

Jon hopes Daenerys will understand one day.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	89. Chapter 89: The Contract

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Languages:**_

_Valyrian_

Common Tongue

* * *

**Chapter 89: The Contract**

_Daenerys's POV_

The following morning Daenerys decided not to attend the negotiating meeting. After last night, she doesn't want to deal with the awkward tension and have Alysanne realize what happened. Hopefully, Jon doesn't tell her sister either. She knows she should have stopped and let Jon be family. But they had something and she wanted one night with him. Yet, the vow between the dead and Jon raised in the North prevented that.

Not wanting to bar herself in her chambers, she went to the forge where the Qohorik blacksmith was. A few days ago, when Grey Worm returned with the sword, he gave it to the Blacksmith. A few days later, the Blacksmith told her that the sword needed to be reforged. At first glance, the Targaryen sword looks fine, but the Blacksmith pointed out the flaws. The coldness from the Ice Dragon caused fractures in the blade. This surprised Daenerys since the blade was Valyrian steel. In the end, Daenerys allowed the Blacksmith to reforge the sword along with designing a new hilt.

It was going to be a gift for Alysanne. Removing the past of their father's design, transforming it something new. A fresh start in their dynasty. Daenerys entered with the designs for the hilt, with the help from Missandei. Along with the unique items needed to add character.

In the forge stood the Oohorik named Durak. Durak was almost middle age, his skin was a dark olive tone. Black hair tied back with silver strands. For a man of his age, he was far muscular, with scars and burns on his arms. He could speak Valyrian, Qohorik, and Common Tongue. The moment she entered the forge, it was hot, hotter than any forge she'd been in. It was nothing to her since the heat doesn't bother her unless it was the Red Waste. In fact, any of the blacksmiths in there were on the other side of the forge away from Durak. His side was burning hot, that it was practically red.

Only one person managed to be close to help. It was Gendry. Although Durak was explaining the method to Gendry. Not touching the process. Except, when removing the blade from the hilt. Daenerys came over observing the process. Especially when the practice of repurposing Valyrian was falling to extinction. She watched as Durak placed the blade in a stone case in the firepit. Durak pulled something out of a pouch and placed over the sword. Before taking a hammer and smashed it, shattering the sword. All the fracture points exposed and break apart.

Daenerys eyes widen, for she thought Valyrian steel was indestructible.

"How?" she asked.

"It is a substance found in Old Valyria," Durak answered in a heavy accent. "My father and his father, and the fathers in the old knew of the materials needed to reforge Valyrian steel."

"Don't you just melt it?" Daenerys asked.

"Melting takes longer, make it smaller, and it shall be quicker with the powder," he said.

"What is the powder?" Gendry asked.

Durak put the slab in the charcoal forge first to start the melting process before taking a pinch of the powder and placed it in both their hands. It was a black substance, almost to the sand of Dragonstone. In other words, volcanic.

"Ashes from the Doom," Durak answered. "The Valyrians were able to make new steel, but the survivors figured out a way to reforge it."

Daenerys and Gendry were surprised.

"Do you know how Valyrian Steel is made?" Gendry asked.

Durak shook his head, "No. No one does. But there are many theories that Valyria was rich in minerals. Along with the source of the fire."

"And what fire is that?" Daenerys asked.

"Dragon fire," Durak answered.

It made sense. The Valyrian was part of the magic, and dragons were part of their daily life. If only they knew what type of metal they used.

"So, you melt it and put it in a tray?" Daenerys asked.

"That is the Volantene way," Durak answered. "My people start from scratch."

"How long will it take?" Daenerys asked.

"Three days to a week for the blade. As it cools, I shall work on the hilt." Durak answered. "Lord

Gendry offered to help. It will make things quicker."

Gendry nodded; Daenerys noticed a sadness in him. As if he was rejected as well and needed a distraction.

"Do you have the design?" Durak asked.

Daenerys nodded, presenting the illustration of how she wanted the hilt to look like. It will no longer be a simple sword with a dragon pommel. Although it will continue to be an arming sword, Daenerys made a design for the pommel, guards, and chapped. She even brought the gems for the design of pommel. Small pieces of sapphires and a topaz.

"I want these to be the eyes," Daenerys said.

"Doesn't the dragons have amber eyes?" Gendry asked.

"This sword has slain the ice dragon, it shall remember as such," Daenerys explained.

Durak nodded as he took the gems and put it in his pocket for safekeeping.

"Don't ever tell the Queen," Daenerys warned. "This is a surprise gift. So far, she only thinks that the sword was destroyed with the Ice Dragon."

Gendry and Durak nodded.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Tyrion and I were in a private room with Sansa and Jon. We were going over the rough draft for the contract between the North and the South. Sansa was pleased to be part of the arrangement. She was more educated than Jon, which Tyrion didn't give her enough credit. Jon may know war and battle, but it was clear he doesn't understand politics. Varys told me, she used to be under the protection of Lord Baelish and trained by Cersei Lannister. Far more educated than given credit for. She understood the civil side of the North. I struggled not to smile from every remark she made. It was clear who was definitely in charge of House Stark.

Our main objective is how the North should be treated. From the Wall down to the neck. The True North, as the Wildlings called it, belongs to them. I accepted that since they suffered the most from the Great War and over eight thousand years. The North shall be independent, although if people from the South decide to move to the North, they cannot hold prejudice. The same vice versa. None can declare war against one another. There shall still be trade since the North have herbs in the springs that make essential medicine and salts. In exchange, food shall be provided to the North, especially in the winter times. With trade from the Bay of Dragons, this winter should provide for them for the next decade. Hopefully, winter will be over, and they can start their own harvest.

"Will there be a marital alliance?" Sansa asked, sternly.

"That is a good question," Tyrion agreed, approving of such a match.

As much, Daenerys and Jon could join the two houses and secure an alliance. It was not possible. House Targaryen needed new blood in order to survive. Any more incest, then the complications could be dire.

"Not in our generation," I said.

"Agreed," Jon said.

This surprised Tyrion while Sansa merely nodded, her lips twitched for a smile. No doubt, she wanted her supposed brother marrying a Targaryen. One day the North will be part of the Seven Kingdoms. The same method as King Daeron II did to bring Dorne. Even though the North doesn't realize a Targaryen is ruling over the North as is.

"I think that is enough for today," I suggested. "In a few days, we shall continue. Give us time to think of anything to add to the contract. I want to make sure everything is covered and there are no loopholes."

"Agreed," Sansa said.

"We better attend the Council Meeting," Tyrion advised.

We all became silent. The council meeting will go over the numbers of men, and the status of our armies. From the funeral yesterday, it was clear who lost the most in the Great War. With nothing else to say, we headed to the War Council chamber. In my poor condition, I sat down along with Tyrion. Jorah stood behind me while on the side was Varys, Daenerys, Missandei. Jon, Sansa, Bran, and Arya stood on the other side of the table. On the left was Grey Worm, Ser Gareth, and Ser Garland. On the right was Ser Davos, Brienne, and Lord Royce. A map was set on the table with pieces that held house crest, representing the numbers.

Grey Worm was the first to take half of the Unsullied pieces, "Half are gone."

Jon took a third of his, "The Northmen as well."

"A third for the Reach," Ser Garlan said, taking a third off the table.

"Only 700 men survive," Ser Gareth added, removing his piece since only a thousand came.

Lord Royce removed half as well.

Daenerys took a deep breath as she removed two-thirds of the Dothraki numbers.

Varys leaned over, putting a couple of pieces on the table, "And the Golden Company has arrived in King's Landing, courtesy of the Greyjoy fleet. The palace has grown distressingly even."

"You still have more men," Ser Garlan said.

"I have talked with King Snow and Lady Sansa; I'm only asking the North to send volunteers. Not through conscription. Their population has declined rapidly."

"King's Landing will have the Golden Company, Lannister Soldiers, and the Greyjoy fleet," Jorah noted.

"When the people find out what we have done for them, that we saved them –" Missandei started.

"Cersei will make sure they don't believe it," Daenerys said. "We will hit her hard. We will rip her out, root and stem."

All eyes were on Daenerys.

"The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying King's Landing," Tyrion reminded.

"Thankfully, she's losing allies by the day," Varys reported. "Yara Greyjoy has retaken the Iron Islands in her queen's name. Prince Doran pledges his support. Offering thirty-thousand men." As he placed a piece with a silver Kraken, and the Martell crest on the battlefield.

"No matter how many lords turn against her, as long as she sits on the Iron Throne, she can call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys inquire. "We need the capital."

"And we will," I promised.

Tyrion took a deep breath, "I watched the people of King's Landing rebel against their King when they were hungry, and that was before winter began. Give them the opportunity, and they will cast Cersei aside."

"And how much grain do they have in the vault?" I asked.

"Enough to last five years," Varys answered.

"We'll surround the city," Jon suggested. "If the Iron Fleet tries to ferry in more food, the dragons will destroy them."

"Along with the Celtigar and Velaryon navy to stop any merchants from passing," Ser Gareth added.

"If the Lannisters and the Golden Company attack, we'll defeat them in the field," Jon finished.

"Once the people see that Cersei is our only enemy, her reign is over," Tyrion assured.

I nodded, though I noticed a few people were silent. I looked at the Lady of Winterfell.

"Lady Sansa, you've been quiet, what are your thoughts?" I asked.

"The men we have left are exhausted," Sansa answered. "Many of them are wounded. They'll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate."

"How long do you suggest?" Daenerys asked, bitterly.

"I can't say for certain, not without talking to the officers," Sansa answered calmly, her hands behind her back.

"The final decision is yours, Your Grace," Jorah said, reminding everyone who has the final say.

I looked at the map, calculating the pieces in numbers and adding on the Dornish soldiers. We have what we need to defeat Cersei's armies. However, Lady Sansa makes a fair point. The men are exhausted. The dragons are still recovering. I can sense Viserion is in no condition to fly or even breathe fire. Rhaegal, based on the reports, has a torn wing. The only dragon that is capable of fighting is Drogon.

Then I remember what Lady Olenna said. She told me Cersei was impatient. Suspense is something that annoys her entirely to a default.

"We came north to fight alongside House Stark at a great cost to our armies and families. Now that the time has come to reciprocate, it's wise that we postpone. Our people are not ready for another war. If I am correct, Cersei Lannisters will expect an attack within two months."

"The longer we leave our enemies alone, the stronger they become," Daenerys reminded.

I looked at her speaking in Valyrian that only Missandei, Varys, Grey Worm, and Tyrion would understand. My voice remained neutral, not to make the Common Tongue speakers concern.

"_Sister, look at me. I am in no condition to travel. Half of our armies are gone. Our dragons are in no condition to fly. The False Queen is expecting us to strike immediately. I know home is right there, but you need to trust me."_

Daenerys sighed, _'It's so close.'_

_"And it will be ours," _I promise her.

Daenerys nodded.

I then turned to face our allies, "Ser Gareth, Ser Garland, Lord Royce, have your men return home. We will call on you when the time is right."

"When do you expect another battle?" Ser Gareth asked.

"In five months' time," I answered. I faced Lady Sansa, "Lady Sansa, with your permission, I ask that the Unsullied and Dothraki remain here to recover. In exchange, they will help in the restoration of Winterfell. Along with a shipment of food."

"I believe that can be arranged," Sansa replied.

I nodded on the terms, as did many of the War council. The Second-Long Night has tired us all. If we head into battle now, our numbers will befall drastically. Not enough men to recover and a longer time to restore the population. If we all recover, then we have a better chance to surround the city and force the people to overthrow Cersei.

"So, if all are in agreement . . ." Tyrion paused.

The Lords and Ladies nodded.

"We have won the Great War. Now we will win the Last War. In all Seven Kingdoms, the people will live without fear and cruelty under _our_ leadership," I said, staring at Jon and Sansa, ensuring I will not go against them.

Jon nodded while Sansa looked at me with a slight smirk. She was still keeping her poise among men, yet our silent agreement is confirmed. The Seven Kingdoms will be run by two houses. Targaryen and Stark. Even though there is a Targaryen in wolf's clothing.

The meeting ended there since all of us were anxious to rest and prepare for departure. Everyone but my council remained. Once the doors were closed, I glanced at Varys.

"How bad is it at Dragonstone?" I asked.

"Euron's fleet had been spotted sailing up the coast," Varys answered. "Lady Olenna and Prince Quintyn and Tyene have been evacuated to the Riverlands where safe passage will take Lady Olenna back to Highgarden."

"Are any of the Lannister Soldiers between the Westerlands to the Crownlands?" Jorah asked.

"No, Cersei has gathered all of the Lannister forces in the Crownlands," Varys confirmed.

"Good, it will make the men have safe passage on the roads," I sighed.

I looked at both Varys and Tyrion, "I need to know all the passages in King's Landing. If we can stop Euron's Fleet, then we can sneak into the Red Keep."

"I know of a few passages," Varys answered. "I'll have my little birds check to see if they are secured."

I nodded, "That should be all."

Jorah helped me up, allowing me to put weight on him. I took a deep breath evening out the discomfort on my side. A fractured rib indeed. Only time can heal that one. It was a miracle the armor protected me so from the fall. Everyone nodded as they headed outgoing their separate ways. We were all tired. No one is ready for another battle.

I know Daenerys was impatient, but she understands that no one is ready. We both lost a lot of men, and the last thing we need is the Dothraki extinction. Let alone acquiring more horses. If Varys is correct, King's Landing has five years of supplies…that is suitable for a million people. With the refugees from both the War of the Five Kings and our arrival, the grain will be gone in two years.

Patience is key.

.**o0o**.

The following week has been recovery and working on the contract with House Stark. I did spend two days checking on the dragons. With my guards and Jorah being my support on his horse, we checked on them. Rhaegal and Viserion were indeed in worse condition.

I examined Viserion seeing the lacerations have started to heal, yet there were good dents on his neck. Viserion purred when I reached his face and rubbed his snout.

"My poor golden dragon," I murmured.

Viserion gave a sigh closing his eyes. I remember his voice being a crisp tenor with a slight echo to it. It will possibly be the only time I will actually hear him. Yet we still have a strong emotional bond. As we can feel each other's emotions.

"How long do you think he'll need?" Jorah asked.

"Two months at most," I answered sadly. "He won't be able to breathe fire from the wounds on his neck anytime soon. If he did, it might kill him."

Jorah nodded, agreeing on the dent. He saw the Ice Dragon's teeth. They were larger than that the regular dragon teeth. Not the ones Tormund gave me. Still, they did such damage. I then went over to Rhaegal, seeing he had a nice claw slash across his chest, a few dents on his neck. Yet there were two massive tears in his wings. I rubbed Rhaegal's neck, which he sighed, relaxing.

"I wish there was a way to protect them better," I said.

Jorah snorted. I turned around, facing him.

"What?" I asked.

"It would be ironic to see a dragon wearing armor," Jorah answered.

I couldn't help but laugh. Then again, I recalled some paintings of the dragons wearing armor. At least a type of peytral, crinets, and possibly a chamfron. Similar to what horses wear.

"It would be a lot of metal, and time to build such armor for all three dragons," I sighed.

"And mighty they will be," Jorah said, as he came over.

"I doubt Durak would appreciate the work," I chuckled.

The Qohorik blacksmith has done a lot in making armor for my council and officers. Already he is at work, repairing the armor as we speak for the next battle. He will probably curse us if I ask him to make armor for the dragons. Let alone the Northern blacksmiths are occupied in producing materials for Winterfell's restoration.

"Probably so," Jorah said, as he leaned down and gave me a kiss.

I sighed into the kiss. We still kept our relationship behind closed doors. The Night before the Long Night and the moment before we lost our barring in fearing of death. The following days, Varys says Jorah being in my company the Northmen assumed was guard duty. A sworn shield. Still, with my recovery, we haven't been intimate. Neither of us has the energy to perform right now.

Jorah soon pulled back from the kiss, "We better return."

I nodded, in a few hours, will be signing of the truce. The contract between the North and House Targaryen. Jon wanted the signing to be in front of the Lords. Most importantly, peace between the North and the South. Assuring the Northern Lords that House Targaryen will not set fire and blood. When we returned, I went to my bedchambers, where Missandei was to prepare me for the signing. I put on a black gown. The gown was loosened, making it easier to breathe. I no longer need a sling, yet my body was still sore, covered in bruises.

Daenerys soon joined in her red gown, "Are you sure you want to give the North its independence?"

"Lady Sansa and Jon worked hard in reclaiming Winterfell from the Boltons. They did everything in their power to restore House Stark and give justice to the Northern Lords. It's the least I can do, especially after Rhaegar and our Father's actions." I told her.

Daenerys nodded, "Hopefully, the Northmen accepts it."

"As do I," I sighed.

When we were ready, the Small Council joined us as we entered the Small Hall. The Lords were there, along with other important figures. Jon, Arya, Bran, Sansa, Ser Davos, and Maester Walkon stood by the table where the final draft of the contract is made. Daenerys, Tyrion, Varys, and Missandei stood on our side. Behind the tables on each side of the fireplace were two banners. House Stark and House Targaryen.

Jon gave the nod, as I nod in return. Tyrion came forward to read the final print of the contract. At first, everything seemed perfect. Sansa smiled on the terms, ensuring the North will indeed get official independents with Jon Snow as their King. Many murmurs from the lords and ladies can be heard in agreement. Yet there was apprehension by many. Once Tyrion finished, he stared at Jon and me.

"I ask his gracious Majesty, the King in the North, to be the first to sign, in good faith, the Treaty of reconciliation and independence," Tyrion said announced.

Jon collected the quill dipping it in ink before reaching the parchment.

"Your Grace, wait!" One lord called out.

All eyes turned to the main group where the Lords and Ladies were. The Lord who spoke, was Lord Glover. From what I've been told, he did not participate in the Battle of Winterfell. Instead he hid in Deepwood Motte. He'd arrived just yesterday.

"What is it, Lord Glover?" Lady Sansa asked.

"This doesn't make sense," Lord Glover replied. "Are you telling us, House Targaryen is giving up the North in good faith? What are the conditions?"

"If you were listening, the conditions are not to raise our banners against House Targaryen or aid any of their enemies," Arya said.

"Still, how can we trust a Targaryen," Lord Glover sneered. "There is nothing to secure the Targaryens from attacking. Not even a marriage contract or a ward?"

_If only you knew,_ I sighed.

There were murmurs between the men trying to figure out a way to accept this alliance. Ironic that these men fear a woman. Not the dragons, but a woman ruling the Southern Kingdoms. I have kept my word to the people. I was not my father.

"If I could make a suggestion," Lord Royce said, standing up. He walked around, taking the center of the floor. Everyone stared at him, wondering what he would say. Lord Royce was one of the tribunal members of the Vale of Arryn. He has done so much for House Stark and the Vale.

"What suggestion do you have, Lord Royce?" I asked.

"The men won't admit it, but a woman of power frightens them. Especially one with dragons," Lord Royce answered. "To secure the alliance, the best option is to have with you married."

"King Jon and I have no desire to wed," I informed him. "Nor my sister."

"No, the King in the North should marry a Northern Woman," Lord Royce assured. "But if you want the North to be assured of peace, you might consider marrying a Northman."

_Not this again,_ I mentally groaned.

The Northern Lords murmured about this as they agreed. I stared at them, seeing many held no attraction to since most were middle-aged or too young for me. There were probably three men who may be suitable. The Lords would reasonably expect Lord Cley Cerwyn, Gawen Glover, or Asher Forrester. Unfortunately, I have no interest in marrying these men.

"I agree," Lord Horwood said.

"Aye!" Many of the lords said.

The only ones who were not agreeing to this were Lady Karstark and Lady Mormont. I glanced at my council and was baffled by this. Daenerys held back her tongue. Varys and Tyrion concern. Missandei and Grey Worm were shocked. As for Jorah, his jaw was tensed.

"Enough!" Jon shouted to silence his men.

He, too, was not pleased by the suggestion of marriage. Sansa scowled at the Lords on such a practice. All three of us had made it that marriage would not secure this alliance. However, the Northerner Lords wanted it. They wanted me to marry one of their own.

"It is only a suggestion," Lord Royce said.

I stood up, "I will need to think about it."

Either nothing else to say, I left the room, followed by my council. We made it to the tower, into the solar room. So many emotions were running through my veins. Furious that Lord Royce would suggest marriage. The last time marriage was offered, my fiancé was murdered by assassins. Hizdahr zo Loraq did not deserve to be slaughtered like that. Then again, any forced marriage resulted in death on the potential husband. Viserys, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, and Hizdahr zo Loraq either forced marriage on me or pressure into it. I must be cursed. Can the gods give me a break?

The door open and then closed. I turned around, expecting to see my council. Instead, it was only Ser Jorah. He, too, held mixed emotions. After everything, we been through. We love each other, and now, we could be separated again.

"Jorah," I started only nothing came out afterward. "Fuck."

Jorah took a deep breath and came over. It happened so fast, as Jorah had me pinned against the wall. My eyes widen, not expecting it. He had both of my arms, prisoning me with the hard, muscled wall of his chest. He put a hand on my cheek, his fingers rough. I have seen Jorah jealous before, yet he counters with sharp words instead of actions.

"Jorah, please listen," I whispered, my heart was racing. I was not scared of him, knowing he won't hurt me.

However, he did not as he claims my mouth with an angry kiss. This caught my breath, stifling a cry of genuine surprise. His mouth slanted, breaking past the barrier of my lips and plunder my mouth. The hunger of him was bruising, going far beyond the physical to pull something deep inside me. A sigh escaped my throat, unable to restrain it as I bit along his lips. The warmth and weight of him encouraging him to go further. It was the permission he nodded to slide his hand up my hip to waist, and I could feel the pressure of his fingers.

"Jorah," I pleaded.

"Don't marry any of them," he growled.

My eyes widen in hearing the possession in his voice.

"I don't want to marry any of them," I assured.

Jorah pulled back, looking at him straight in the eyes, "Then chose me."

I stared at him in shock.

"They want you to marry a Northerner then chose me. They will try to take the crown, the throne, and your value, but I won't. I see you as my equal, if not higher."

"Jorah," I whispered in shock. "What about Bear Island? Don't you want to return home and restore House Mormont's bloodline?"

Jorah kissed my forehead, "You are my home."

My eyes watered as I hugged him. Jorah was willing to give up everything for me. All he ever did was serve me to the highest regard. He has fought for me. Killed for me. And if he could, he would die for me. The same level I have seen in the Daznak Pit. All he has done, despite one event, has led us to this.

"Jorah Mormont Targaryen has a good name to it," he added.

I couldn't help but let the chuckle escape. We may have some differences and sins from the past. But our five years have let us redeem ourselves to be together.

"Then yes," I accepted it. "I will marry you."

Jorah smiled as he kissed me again, only this time, it was not as rough and possessive a moment ago. If the Northern Lords want me to marry a Northmen, so be it. Only I will choose who it will be. And it will be the man I love. Not some stranger. Not someone who will try to dominate me into submission.

There was a knock. Jorah soon pulled back as we corrected ourselves.

"Come in," I said.

The door opened as the Small Council came in.

"I assume Jorah proposed," Daenerys teased.

Varys and Tyrion looked at me in question.

"Yes, Ser Jorah and I are engaged to be married," I confirmed.

"The Southern Lords may not take the comfort of a woman of your status to marry from a lesser house," Varys warned.

"Then they should have made an effort twenty years ago," I countered.

Varys nodded.

"Then we better return," Tyrion declared.

I nodded as we returned back to the Small Hall, where the Starks and other Lords waited. I returned to my spot facing the Lords.

"After talking with my council, I have decided to follow your terms," I announced.

The men gave a slight cheer.

"That is why I chose Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island to be my consort," I said.

Silence engrossed the room, as Lord Wyman Manderly stepped forward, "Your Grace, Ser Mormont is a disgraced knight."

"Last I checked, Lord Manderly, Ser Jorah has been pardoned by King Robert for his crimes," I said. "And during his exile, he partook in my campaign to end slavery."

"He owns no lands and is a disgrace to House Mormont," Lord Marlin Dormund added.

"You are wrong," Lady Mormont stood up from her wheelchair and took center. "It is true, my cousin made a mistake. I don't care. He has proven himself in the Great War. Saved my life. To which I am eternally grateful. I welcome him back to Bear Island."

Jorah was shocked by this.

"Aye," Jon spoke. "In the past year, Jorah has proven himself. He served his Queen and went beyond the Wall. Robert Baratheon pardoned him from the Seven Kingdoms. And I pardon him for the North."

The Lords and Ladies whispered amongst each other.

"Are there any disagreements?" I asked.

There was a moment of silence.

"Then it is decided, to secure the North of its independence, Queen Alysanne of House Targaryen shall marry Ser Jorah of House Mormont," Tyrion said. "Binding the alliance between the North and the South. All who oppose speak now."

Silence.

"All who agree?"

A cheer bellows through the entire chamber.

"Now, as I was saying," Tyrion said, turning to Jon. "I ask his grace, the King in the North, to be the first to sign, in good faith, the Treaty of Reconciliation, Independence, and Perpetual Peace."

Jon took the quill and signed his name on the document. Lady Sansa stepped forward, signing her name as a witness.

"And now I ask her gracious majesty, The Queen of the Six Kingdoms, to also sign, in good faith, the Treaty of Reconciliation, Independence, and Perpetual Peace," Tyrion said.

I stepped forward, taking hold of the quill and signed my name on the document. Daenerys came forward and signed her name as well, to be my witness. Maester Walkon stepped forward, holding a wax spoon filled with grey wax pouring it on the document, and using a stamper put the Direwolf Crest of House Stark. Missandei did the same, as she poured a red wax and pressed the Dragon Crest of House Targaryen. The Lords and Ladies applauded in this contract.

I stared at Jorah, smiling at him as he smiled back.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review.**


	90. Chapter 90: Wedding Nerves

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 90: Wedding Nerves**

_Alysanne's POV_

Is this really happening?

Am I really engaged to Ser Jorah Mormont?

So many thoughts are running through my head on the concept of marriage. I was excited and nervous all at the same time, although I was scared. I know Jorah will never hurt me or try to control me. Therefore, I should not be afraid. Yet the nerves were getting the better of me.

The Northern Lords have given us two weeks before the wedding. It has been decided to have a Northern wedding. As Jorah and I will make our vows in the Godswood in front of a weirwood tree. Not just any weirwood, but a Heart Tree. The Heart Tree was considered to be the face of the gods. After all my experiences of different cultures and religions, I felt intimidated by the Old Gods. For the last time I was in the Godswood, I didn't feel welcome. Like I was some stranger. Will the Heart Tree object to the union? Not like a Septon at a sept. Then again, it would probably be the best. That way, I no longer have to compare it to my first wedding.

There is so much I want to do in preparation. However, after the Long Night, Winterfell needed to be renovated. I tried to help in the arrangements, only Lady Sansa told me in a Northern Wedding the bride doesn't do much. And since this was going to be a simple wedding, there will be little preparation. With limited supplies, there won't be a lavish feast. No, it would be the same as it was in celebrating the Livings victory. The only thing that matters was cleaning up the Castle and a pie.

I tried to do something by making my wedding dress. However, the moment I started sewing, Lady Sansa stopped me.

"The bride can't make her wedding dress," she told me. "At least for a noble and royal."

"Why not?" I asked.

"When a bride makes her dress, she sews in the sorrows of her marriage," Sansa answered.

I sighed, putting the fabric down, "I did not know that. Usually, sewing calms me down."

Sansa nodded as she sat down, "When I married Ramsey, I sewn my dress. It seems it worked, and my husband is dead."

"Why are you helping, Lady Sansa?" I asked. "I was given the impression that you don't like me."

"I don't hate you, but I respect you," Sansa answered. "You've done more than any ruler I've seen. Jon trusts you. So, I trust you a little."

"I appreciate that," I said.

Sansa nodded. Instead of getting up to leave. Sansa went over the ritual for an Old Religion wedding. Let me tell you, it is much simple and quick compared to the wedding of the Seven. When she mentioned that the head of my House has to give me away, there was a slight problem. The only male heir alive was Jon, and he was hiding his Targaryen heritage. My father is dead, and so are both my brothers. Initially, I would have Ser Barristan to give me away, except he died in the Long Night. Fortunately, Sansa explained that any remaining family can give me away. I better ask Daenerys if she can perform that right. She is the only family I have left. Otherwise, I could ask Grey Worm.

"I'll have Maester Walkon write down the steps so you and your family can practice the vows," Sansa assured.

"It's not liked the Faith of the Seven weddings," I sighed.

She bit her bottom lip then asked, "What was your first wedding like?"

Of course, that question would be asked sooner or later.

"I was barely sixteen," I told her. "A few months after, my brother Viserys raped me when I told him in order to survive, we need to marry other people. He still believed that there was a chance of the Targaryen monarchy will rise once more with him as King. To keep the bloodline pure…he forced me to marry him. It was his way of preserving my honor. We were living in Lys at the time. Our Host did everything he could at our wedding. Small due to who we were, yet it was the closest to what Viserys had of a Valyrian wedding. We married at a small sept since Lys worshiped the Weeping Lady of Lys. When we made our vows in front of the Septon, the words were like bile. I was forced to lie in front of the Septon and our guests, despite the fact it was wrong. The Feast went well, as I remained humble again. It was the bed ceremony I dreaded."

"Did you…"

"I was raped again. I tried to get Viserys drunk during the Feast. At first, it worked. He collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. I changed into my evening gown and did the same. Only to wake in the middle of the night with him inside me. Forcing the consummation."

Sansa's eyes widen from that.

"The Lords know I am not a maid. Everyone knows I married my brother, and many will use it against me."

Sansa placed her hand over mine, "I'm sure once your marriage to Ser Jorah is done, it will be better than the last."

I held back my tongue, not sharing the fact I have only slept with Ser Jorah since Viserys death. I told her of my two previous engagements. Well, one offer from Xaro Xhoan Daxos, and the actual engagement with Hizdahr zo Loraq. She was intrigued by the different cities I went to. But was shocked to learn the ploys these men had.

"So be careful on the next husband," I warned her.

"It will be a while before I consider marrying again," she said.

I nodded, understanding what she meant.

Time went on when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's Missandei and me," Daenerys said.

"Come in," I said.

My sister and Missandei came in with two unsullied carrying a trunk. Daenerys glanced at Sansa, raising a brow. Sansa stood up, straightening her dress.

"I'll let you three be," Sansa said.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa," I replied.

She gave a nod before leaving the room. Daenerys watched her leave, waiting until the she-wolf was gone. After a few moments, she looked at me.

"Why was Lady Sansa here?" Daenerys asked.

"She was telling me the ritual for the Old Religion Wedding ceremony," I answered.

"Oh," Daenerys said.

The two Unsullied put the trunk down, giving a bow to me before leaving.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Some dresses," Daenerys answered. "I was told of the tradition of the bride not making the dress. Hopefully, we can find something you can wear."

"Well, I'm no maid, so I can't wear white," I joked.

Missandei chuckled, knowing that is true. She opened the trunk and pulled the formal gown out and setting them on the bed. She pulled out the ones that are more suitable for the climate. There were three options. One was a lavender, then there was a navy-blue dress, and lastly, there was a white one with golden trim.

I tried on the first dress, which was lavender. It was made of velvet and decorated with exclusive trim. The trim is embroidered with beads and tiny pearls along the neck slit, sleeves, and front accents. The sleeves were fitted on the upper arm, the bell-shaped with a slit that was trimmed in white fur. While the chemise had fitted sleeves that held the same design.

The blue dress has a tight bodice that had side lacing with ample puff sleeve until reaching the elbow that becomes fitted at the high cuffs. A full draped skirt. Low neckline coquettishly reveals the chemise underdress. There was delicate through noble trim in embroidery with a final finish of a silver belt.

The last dress was a white one. It was made out of natural velvet. Having a narrow bodice that is tightened on the side by two pieces of gold lace, which are simultaneously decorated at the seams. A deep triangular cut and shoulder parts of the sleeves are decorated with golden brocade, enhanced with the application of the golden metalized net, golden lace embroidery and crystals. Along with long flared sleeves that are trimmed with gold braid on edge and lined inside with the silk. The skirt flares and is draped into the deep folds. Each wedge of the skirt is decorated with two elements of the golden embroidery, that take the shape of dragons. There was a hint of dragons through the dress in the embroidery trim.

"I don't recall ordering this dress," I thought aloud.

"Actually, I ordered it when we lived in the Bay of Dragons," Daenerys said. "I thought it would be the perfect coronation dress. But I think it makes a better wedding dress."

"Agreed," Missandei said. "Why do you not want to wear white?"

"White usually signifies purity and virginity," I replied, staring at myself in the mirror. "I'm not pure, nor am I a virgin."

Missandei stood behind me as she adjusted my hair, "You may not be a maiden Alysanne but you are a pure soul. The color of white does not mean virginity. It means a new beginning, hope, simplicity, and perfection."

"You all think so?" I asked.

"Yes," Daenerys said as she took to secure a belt around my waist. "You deserve this dress."

I stared myself in the mirror, contemplating what the dress should be.

**.o0o.**

_Jorah's POV_

Jorah was making his way to the forge needing to ask Durak a favor. It has been three days since the announcement of his engagement. And yesterday, a shipment of food arrived from White Harbor. In other words, things are peaceful in Winterfell. Despite the construction of repairing the damages. There were many things he needed to get done before the wedding night.

Once he arrived at the forge, he found Durak hammering away.

"Durak," Jorah called out.

The Qohorik looked up, then back down, hammering away, "Armor is not ready."

"I'm not here for armor," Jorah assured.

Durak looked at him, confused.

"I need a ring made," Jorah explained. "A wedding ring."

"Do I look like silversmith?" Durak grumbled. "I don't even have silver."

"No, I need it to be made out of this," Jorah said, handing him a key.

Durak quenched a pauldron and came over taking a look at the key, "It's a perfectly good key. It would be a shame to melt that down."

"Oh, you don't melt it down," Jorah explained. "I want you to keep the blade and the bow."

Durak examined the key again, "It can be done. I assume you want it before the wedding?"

"Aye," Jorah confirmed.

"I'll make a new shank for the key as well," Durak added. "By any chance, do you have the Queen's size?"

Jorah pulled out a simple ring. He had Missandei snatch it to help the blacksmith. It was nothing fancy or valuable. Only a band, since Alysanne keeps a mock ring when traveling and jewelers wanted to sell items while the Targaryen was busy.

"I appreciate it," Jorah said.

Durak secured the ring in his pouch. "With what the Dragon Sisters pay me, it is enough to live three lives."

Jorah can only nod. He thanked the blacksmith again before leaving the forge. It was a tradition in House Mormont to make a ring out of their key. Jorah did it once with his first wife, Gillian. Lynesse preferred many expensive things. And Alysanne, she did not care. She only cares about the sentimental values.

"Cousin!" someone called out.

Jorah stopped as he turned around to see Lyanna walking towards him. He was pleased to see his young cousin able to walk and not rely on her wheelchair.

"What can I do for you, Lyanna?" Jorah replied.

"I have something for you," Lyanna said, handing him a leather pouch.

He accepted the pouch, wondering what was inside. There was some wait and a clinking of something. Loosening the strings, he opens it to see what it was. His eyes widen, for it was something he has not seen since he was a wee lad. It was his mother's necklace made out of pearls. Jeor Mormont gave them to his mother on their wedding day. Jorah thought Jeor had the necklace buried with his mother in Mormont crypt.

"My mother held onto them," Lyanna said.

Of course, Maege would, Jorah thought. His aunt did not take fondness of Lynesse and probably hide every valuable from them. Then again, Jorah was thankful for his aunt. The woman who was like a second mother to him. If only he'd listened to her wisdom more often.

"Don't spend them," Lyanna warned.

"I promise, I won't," he assured her.

"Good," Lyanna said. "I like her. She's not too feminine."

Jorah snorted, knowing that is true.

"Is she taking the name?" Lyanna asked.

"No, her House is near extinction, so I will be taking hers," he confessed.

Lyanna nodded. Jorah assumed when Lyanna decides to marry, her husband will take her name. It was the same for Maege, as her husband took the Mormont name to save it from extinction while he was in exile. It was rare for men to change their names. Especially from noble families. But if a House is nearing extinction, many men are willing to take the risk. Although when he talked to Alysanne about it, she felt guilty. So, she made a compromise to change their name to Mormont-Targaryen, including for their children.

The thought of children left mixed emotions. When he was younger, he always wanted children. However, after three miscarriages from Gillian, especially the last one killing her, the desire to have a child right away terrified him. He was cautious with Lynesse since she was young. Now with Alysanne, he wanted one, but he worried about her condition. Quaithe told him Alysanne's death will be of age. Therefore, there should be nothing to fear. Maybe it was nerves.

"Don't forget who you are," Lyanna warned. "You might live in a castle, but don't forget where you come from."

"I won't, my lady," he promised.

Lyanna nodded as she left with her advisors. Jorah sighed, then looked at the pouch in his hand. One he will give to Alysanne after their wedding. He had to admit, he didn't anticipate getting married like this. Then again, he feared he wouldn't be married to Alysanne. What he dreaded was Alysanne being required to marry a lord to secure her claim as Queen. Now here he was, a lesser lord marrying a Queen to appease the Northmen. When it was offered, Jorah saw red, as the Lords eyed the young men. How he proposed is not what he preferred, letting jealousy and possessiveness got the better of him. But damned if he let an opportunity slip.

Still, he needs to make up for the rush. This was not the wedding she deserves. Then again, Alysanne isn't about material things. He could probably name five important objects she can't part or wear again. In the end, Jorah wants to cherish her.

Jorah walked about seeing how the restoration is doing. He was talking with the Dothraki when a few men walked by.

"I can't wait for the bedding ceremony," one lord said.

"Yeah, a chance to grab that lass's ass," his companion agreed.

The Knight saw red, yet he kept his composure. He had forgotten about the bedding ceremony. Mainly the lords carrying the bride to the bedchambers while stripping her clothes. That is one thing Jorah did not like, other men seeing Alysanne naked. Almost wanted to kill Daario when he saw Alysanne naked. And there was the Great Masters, after the incident with Rhaegal. Alysanne tried to be modest, slightly insecure about her body. No way, Jorah will let those men touch her or see her indisposed.

Jorah then realized he has become Ned Stark. From what he heard, he threatened to break jaws before anyone lays a hand on Catelyn Tully.

He took a deep breath needing to clear his head.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

The girls left, giving me some privacy. I sat by the window holding Dark Sister. Tracing my fingers over the ruby that was on the rainguard. I held Dark Sister once before handing it over to Ser Barristan. This sword once belongs to Visenya. She was the first well-known wielder, followed by Maegor until he took Blackfyre. It would be over a decade before Jaehaerys took it, using Dark Sister to claim his birthright to the Iron Throne. Followed by Baelon the Brave, who took the sword to avenge his brother's murder by Myrish exiles. Then came Jaehaerys' grandson Daemon using it in the War for the Stepstones of not the Dance Dragon. The battle of Above the Gods Eye, where Daemon leaped from the back of Caraxes and plunged it into Aemond Targaryen's eye. Then there was the Dragon Knight, Aemon Targaryens son of King Viserys II, who was considered to be the great swordsman of the era. Afterward, Bloodraven, given by his half-brother. Until it vanished never to be seen in over a hundred years. The last wielder being Ser Barristan Selmy.

Now it is back in my possession. However, I was not trained with a long sword. I felt comfortable with an arming sword and a short sword. Jorah and Ser Barristan did teach me how to use a two-handed handle, but it's been some time. My sword, the Targaryen sword, was lost in the fight with the Ice Dragon. I remember the sound of shattering. Probably lost somewhere in the Wolfswood.

I will have to ask Jorah to reteach me how to use a longsword.

_'That you do,' _Visenya said.

I looked around until staring at a mirror in which Visenya appeared.

_'Visenya,_' I greeted. _'it's been a while.'_

_'That__it has,'_ she agreed. _'I'm pleased to see you are alive and safe. And I congratulate you on your betrothal. Like I told you, Jorah is a good candidate.'_

_'He is fresh blood,_' I agreed.

_'And his seeds will reset the bloodline and never again shall it be tampered,'_ she said. _'From what I've seen, he is a good knight. A bit old, but strong as any bear.'_

I chuckled slightly, _'I guess I prefer older men.'_

_'Strong, muscular, if not hairy,_' she teased.

I chuckled again and stared at the sword, _'It's a beautiful sword.'_

_'Dark Sister was made for nobler tasks than slaughtering sheep. She has a thirst for blood,'_ she murmured_. 'That is what Daemon Targaryen once said. She meant for a purpose, not for display or theatrics."_

_'It sounds like you don't think I'm worthy for her,'_ I thought.

_'You__have a sword.'_

_'__My sword is lost.'_

_'__Well, there is another sword.'_

I felt heat in my cheeks in what she meant. Gods, why is everyone perverted. And I thought Jorah was worse when he gave me his sheath back in Meereen.

Visenya gave a laugh.

_'Lend__the sword to Jorah, he will need it for the coming war with the Lioness. And soon, another will be in his hand. Once you are Queen and King Consort, Dark Sister will be in the hands of your children, and their children, and so forth. She has been lost, and now she has been found. Just like you.'_

I smiled softly, tracing the flames on the crossguard.

_'__Can you see my children?'_ I asked, curious.

_'__I__do they are beautiful. Strong as their father and wise as their mother.'_

I smiled thoughtfully of the future.

Visenya gave a sad smile.

_'__What__is it? What's wrong?'_

_'__I__cannot say. Only know nothing can stay.'_

Before I could ask what she meant, she left. I sighed, wondering what she meant by that? I pray for a good future. Not for the Iron Throne, but to be happy. Yes, this wedding will put the North at ease. But most importantly, it will make me glad to be married to someone I love.

* * *

**The next chapter will be the wedding.**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	91. Chapter 91: A Winter Wedding

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_Warning this chapter is rated M for sexual content. _**

* * *

**Chapter 91: A Winter Wedding.**

_Alysanne's POV_

Two weeks have gone by before I even know it. I felt nervous as I woke in my room, staring at the ceiling. Seeing all the details of the woodgrain. The slight cracks of plasters, and the dust particles swirling in the air blown in from the small cracks in the window.

I've never felt this nervous before. Like a swirling of butterflies in my stomach. I executed a man for murder. I fought in a raid at the Daznak Pit. I fought in an invasion against the Masters. I fought against the Lannister Army on the Golden Road. I fought against an Ice Dragon. So why am I getting all nervous over a wedding? It wasn't like my first wedding, although I vomited until the Lady of the House brought tea to ease my stomach. Only I wasn't out of disgust. Now, I was getting married to the man I love.

My cheeks blush, thinking about last night. After dinner, Jorah escorted me back to my chambers and gave me a kiss. He was absent from my bed though I wanted so much to spend the night with him. Instead, Jorah kissed me passionately hands teasing my thighs close to my privates then pulled away. And I thought abstinence for the years separated was frustrating. But Jorah wanted to wait till we consummate our marriage.

Now it was morning, and I have to wait until night.

Alysanne Jaehaera Mormont-Targaryen?

If my parents could see it now. Then again, Father would have said no to it. In fact, my father probably would have ordered an execution for Jorah's head the moment he kissed me. If my family was still alive, I would probably be still married to Viserys or a Lord he deemed suitable. Mother, on the other hand, would approve seeing how much she loved her knight. Rhaegar…he had intended to marry me to Quentyn or Willas or Garlan Tyrell. For once, I am in control. Yes, this marriage was pushed by the Northern Lords, but at least I chose the consort.

I rolled over onto my side, hugging the pillow. After tonight, Jorah will be forever sleeping in my bed. The thought made me smile. Since the only time he will not be in my bed is when I'm giving birth and recovering. The idea of a child made the smile into a grin. Like the boy I once dreamed long ago returned. Unfortunately, I took the Lys Elixir. Once the war is over, I will stop taking it and let the gods decide when I shall have a child. I place a hand over my stomach since the itch for a child is still here.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"It's me," Daenerys replied.

"Come in," I said.

Daenerys came in still in her evening clothes. She climbed into bed staring at me with a smile.

"How does the bride feel?" she asked.

"Nervous," I answered.

"Well, hopefully, this will be your last marriage," she assured, wrapping an arm around me. "You deserve a happy marriage."

I nodded, giving her a peck on the cheek. She sighed.

"Hopefully, I can find someone," she confessed.

I cradled her cheek, feeling guilty. She had strong feelings for Jon, only it cannot be. Not when I gave a sacred vow to end the practice of incest. If only Jon was our cousin, then I would have allowed it. But it can't be.

"There is always Daario," I suggested.

Daenerys giggled for the first time in a long time.

"If not him, there is Quentyn Martell," I offered. "He's what, three years older? And I heard stories about the Dornish men."

I wiggled my eyebrows.

Daenerys laughed from that, "Maybe. Right now, I'm going to focus on our home. I'm not sure if I'm going back to the Dothraki Sea so my Bloodriders can return home."

I nodded again.

"But first, I must give my sister away," she added. "And hopefully be an aunt in two years."

"Dany," I laughed.

We spent the morning talking when Missandei arrived with a tray of breakfast. All three of us socialize while time went on. I'm basically on house arrest, not allowed to leave my chamber until the wedding. Since there is a tradition, a bride should not see the groom. With a northern wedding being simple, there is no luxury, such as a grand feast, reception, flowers, or dancing. After the Long Night, we need to not waste the North's resources. So here I was, spending time in my room until darkness.

By the time we finished eating, a copper tub was brought in as the maids went back and forth, delivering hot water. A tradition for a bride to be cleansed for a restart on life. Missandei did my hair, washing it while Daenerys sat by watching. We continued to socialize, talking about anything.

"Alysanne, has Grey Worm talked to you yet?" Missandei asked.

"No, is something the matter?" I replied.

"Nothing, just something personal," she said.

I turned around facing her, taking her hand, "Missandei, you have been a dear friend to me. Don't be afraid to ask me anything."

Missandei smiled softly, "I can't say since it is Grey Worm's question."

"Well, he has been my most loyal officer. Whatever he has to ask, I am open to it."

Missandei nodded with a smile, "Thank you."

Once I was cleaned, I got out of the bath, putting my hair in a towel to dry off. Along with a heavy robe to stay warm while sitting by the fireplace. Missandei handed me some lotion and I applied it to my skin. So many thoughts linger in my head. When I put on some clothes, the servants came in to collect the water and tub. I have to admit, I do miss the bathing chambers in Dragonstone. A place dedicated to bathing. Not having to wait for the servants to fetch a bath. Then again, I'm used to rooms devoted to a bath. Well, except during the Dothraki period.

As time went on, I started to feel my nerves intensifying. I know Jorah will be there, yet the butterflies keep swirling around in my stomach. It came to a point where I was pacing about. Missandei and Daenerys found it amusing.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this nervous," Daenerys teased.

"I can't help it," I muttered.

"At least you are marrying someone you love and not some stranger," Daenerys said. "Not many women have that opportunity."

"And I'm sure Ser Jorah will be," Missandei assured. "He's too honorable to leave now."

I took a deep breath, "I wish the wedding could be now and not at night."

"Well, they want to rush into the consummation," Daenerys said.

I groaned.

Missandei and Daenerys laughed at my impatience.

Time went on as my hair dried. Missandei worked on my hair, having half of it down while the rest was up using the Targaryen pin to keep it up. Next, I put on the undergarments, along with a pair of leggings to keep warm. Follow by the dress, the white dress with gold trim and embroidery of dragons on the skirt. The only jewelry I wore was my mother's pearl pendant. I could wear more like a Queen, but it wasn't me. Daenerys did a small amount of makeup, adding a berry balm onto my lips and nothing else.

**.o0o.**

"I've come to escort you to the Godswood, my Queen," Grey Worm said. "If you please, your grace, will you take my arm."

I smiled softly to Grey Worm in the gesture. It was decided that Grey Worm will escort me down the aisle, yet Daenerys will lead us to the Godswood to give me away. Missandei placed a black silk cloak over my shoulders as it was part of the tradition. I took Grey Worm's arm.

Daenerys smiled, wearing her black attire with red accessory, while holding a lantern leading the way to the Godwoods. No words were said, as we reached the courtyard where the people of Winterfell, the Unsullied and Dothraki stood by watching the union. I felt nervous. Although I shouldn't be, the excitement and nerves rolled into one.

We entered the Godswood. For the first time since walking through here no longer did I feel unwelcome. I felt a presence of respect. As if the Old Gods were welcoming me for this union to one of their children. There was a trail of torches leading the way to the weirwood tree. We followed the path. My heart was beating rapidly, nervous, and anticipating what is to come.

By the time we reach there, relief took hold. The Lords and Ladies were there, some holding a lantern to lighten the ceremony. The Starks were there along with Lady Mormont, as each took a side of the Heart Tree. Amongst the crowd was also Ser Jaime, Ser Brienne, Ser Gareth, Lord Royce, and Ser Garlan to confirm the union. Also, in the crowd was the shadowbinder, Quaithe. Jon stood center as he was the Master of Ceremony, by his side was Jorah. He wore new clothes, more suitable for the climate. Jorah groomed his hair back, and his beard trimmed and well kept. Upon his shoulder was a cloak made out of brown fur. I had to hold back a chuckle, wondering if it was made out of a bear.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" Jon asked aloud.

"Alysanne of the House Targaryen comes here to be wed," Daenerys announced. "A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods."

"Who comes to claim her?"

Jorah stepped forward, "Jorah of House Mormont. Knight of Bear Island. Who gives her?"

"Daenerys of House Targaryen, who is her sister," Daenerys said. "And Torgo Nudho, Commander of the Queen's army."

"Queen Alysanne, will you take this man?" Jon asked.

I stared at Jorah with a smile, "I take this man."

Jorah smiled as he stepped forward, offering his arm. Grey Worm handed me over to Jorah, as my arm let go of my commander and into my soon-to-be husbands. He led us to the Heart Tree, where the face of the Old God stared at us with weeping eyes of red sap. We bowed before the deity in prayer as silence engrossed the Godswoods. Only the sound of the fire, the soft moans of the wind, and the distance sounds of passing animals could be heard. After a few moments, we stood up. Missandei came over, removing my cloak while Jorah took his off and wrapping it on my shoulders.

Thus, concluded the ceremony.

Or so I thought until Jon came over holding a white ribbon. "In respect to the bride's religion, the groom has asked to seal the bond in the Faith of the Seven."

My eyes widen, not expecting it. My husband knew I was devoted to the Faith of the Seven. And yet, he took it into consideration of our union. Tears glossed over, appreciating it. The Faith was my only connection to my mother. We turned to face Jon offering our hand; my right and Jorah's left.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls binding them as one for eternity," Jon said, securing the ribbon around our hands. "Look upon one another and say the words."

Jorah and I stared at one another.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger . . . I am his/her, and he/she is mine . . . from this day until the end of my days."

Jorah used his free hand, cradling my cheek, before leaning down and kissed me on the lips. Solidifying our union. The Lords and Ladies applauded to us in celebration for our marriage. Although I think they are happy that a Queen is marrying one of their own that isn't the King. If not securing the North, since there be no cause if I were to attack it since my husband is a Northerner.

When we broke from the kiss, Jorah took something out of his pocket. He removed the ribbon, taking hold of my left hand. I was confused at first wondering if this was another tradition.

"If I may," He murmured.

I nodded, relaxing my left hand. He slid something on my left ring finger, a ring. It was a small band with a seam on it made of simple metal. It took me a moment to realize it was made from a key. Jorah always mentioned when a Mormont truly marries someone they love, they are given a key from their home. Replacing a building to that of a person. I was Jorah's home now. Unable to restrain myself, I leaned up and kissed him again.

I was his, and he was mine.

No longer as Knight and Queen.

But as Husband and Wife.

.**o0o**.

The reception took place in the Small Hall. Tables were arranged like they did for the previous feast. A group of musicians played in the background giving a festive tune completely different from the last. Jorah and I sat at the head table, with Daenerys on my side and Lady Lyanna on Jorah's.

The food consisted of Venison and Venison pie, gravy, onion stew, and roasted vegetables, along with bread. Ale, wine, and cider was passed around. The Northerners were enjoying themselves, along with my council and the few southern lords. It was simple. The way Jorah and I would like it. Our introverted selves showing itself. Not being as lavish than most would anticipate. Throughout the meal, Jorah held my hand, as if not wanting to let go.

"You're making it difficult to eat Jorah," I teased.

"Forgive me," Jorah murmured, lifting my hand to his lips.

I chuckled softly.

"So, how does it feel to be King?" I asked.

"King Consort," Lyanna corrected. "Don't raise his pride more than it should be."

I chuckled softly again.

"Seems the North has their own Lady of Thorns," I murmured to Jorah.

He snorted from that. Lyanna merely smirked as she took a sip of cider. The meal continued onward in peace. The Small Hall, with the amount of people inside was a bit crowded for dancing. I haven't danced in a long time. Not since the Veil. Under the influence of wine, pleading Jorah to dance with me until he conceded. I doubt he is up for a dance. Then again, it was three weeks ago since the battle. People might not be interested in dancing.

After the savory food, we cut into another pie filled with wild berries.

Daenerys stood up, raising her glass, "King Snow, I think it's time for the bedding ceremony."

The guests started knocking on the table and banging their goblets. Followed by the chanting of "To bed!"

Jon stood up, "If you think the time is right, Khaleesi, by all means, let us bed them."

A boom of laughter engulfed the room. I blushed, for I forgot the bedding ceremony was not like the ones in the Free Cities. How the men carry the bride to the wedding chambers while ripping her clothes off. The same goes for women dragging the groom, tearing his clothes as well. Several men stood up, making their way over.

Suddenly Jorah stood slamming his goblet, "None shall touch her. It wouldn't be right if I broke a man's jaw on our wedding night."

I stare at Jorah, astounded, followed by a thankful smile. I, for one, not feel comfortable to be touch by other men or exposing myself. Jorah knew how I value modesty. He stared at me with a caring smile, offering a hand. I accepted as I stood up. We walked around the table, when Jorah did the unexpected, by swooping me off my feet and carried me out. The guests laughed and cheered as Jorah carried his bride to our quarters. All I know is that I felt flustered by the warmth in my cheeks. At least it's not strange men groping me. Also, I liked seeing Jorah's jealous side again.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

**.o0o.**

Jorah still held me, while I opened the door to make it easy for him. Once inside, he set me down on my feet, then closed the door. My apartment has changed, as candles were lit all around, the scent of incense filled the air, the fireplace lit. The bed was made with fresh sheets, blankets, and furs along with bundles of herbs. I turned around, facing Jorah with a smile.

My husband smiled back, "Forgive me. For I did not want another man to touch you like that."

"Your jealousy always amuses me," I teased.

"Jealousy?" He murmured pulling me into his arms and pinning me there. "And pride."

As he leans down, he gives me a dominating kiss. I tried to kiss him back, but I couldn't help the fit of giggles. Jorah pulled back, raising a brow, before laughing as well.

"I'm probably the second Northerner who refused a bedding ceremony," he said, tucking a strand of hair out of my face.

"And who was the first?" I asked.

"Ned Stark," he answered.

I nodded, leaving it there. Jorah pecked my forehead, knowing not to go further. Ned Stark was one of the handfuls of men behind my family's downfall. Only he had a legitimate reason in the Usurper's Rebellion; therefore, I don't hold it against the Quiet Wolf.

"Husband," I murmured.

Jorah cradle my cheek, "Wife."

We smiled for our dream had come true to be married to one another. No longer did status separate us. Age, status, or birthright pulled us apart. We were now married and together forever.

Jorah gave another peck, as he led us further into the room. Once we were in the center of the room, Jorah removed the fur cloak, setting it on the lounge chair, then went over to the table to pour us some wine. I took the opportunity of the distraction to remove the etched gold belt with pearls, along with my necklace and hairpin. I set them on the vanity to be safe. I worked on the boots, taking them off, along with the leggings.

Jorah chuckled, seeing the wool leggings.

"Sad to say, I'm cold-blooded like a lizard," I chuckled nervously.

"You've been adapting well," he murmured, coming over and handed me the chalice.

I stared at the glass, noting it was not wine but cider. I smiled softly since cider didn't have the same potency as wine. I took a sip, savoring the crisp flavor of apple with a hint of fermentation.

"I must say, I do enjoy the cider," I said. "It is not as bitter as wine."

Jorah nodded, "That is true."

He knew I've been hesitant on wine and strong alcoholic drinks that could hide flavors. Once we finished our drinks, Jorah set the glasses down on the vanity and took my hand, leading in front of the fireplace where there was warmth.

My heart beats rapidly. The nerves returning. I don't know why I was nervous since we've had sex many times. Only this time we were consummating our marriage. We stared at each other for a moment, until I took one of Jorah's hand to undo one of the side lacings. He tugged on the strings, slithering through the crosshatching to untangle the restraints. Jorah leaned down, kissing me softly, taking his time. His other hand working on the other side lace. My hands went to his collarbone, working on the fasting of his jerkin. Once undone, he shrugged them off as we worked together in taking off his gambeson. Leaving him in his boots, trousers, and shirt.

One sharp tug, the dress came down, leaving me in my chemise. The dress pooling around my feet. I didn't bother to wear a corset, since the dress was a bit constructed on the bodice, if not easy on my ribs. They were tender, as the bones weren't healed quite yet. The next article of clothing was his shirt. The scars of war and his battle of greyscale evidently shown. It will be some time before the scars soften. I placed my hand over his heart in which he covered mine. His pecks heaved up and down, his heart fluttered the same as mine, our breathing becoming heavy.

The rest of Jorah's clothing came off, along with his boots. Calloused fingers came to the string that held my chemise together. Untying it, pulling the strings that the top became loose. He grabbed one of the sleeves, causing the silk fabric to fall off my shoulders. However, I have to undo the ties on my arms and the buttons on the cuffs allowing the rest of the chemise to fall down to my waist until reaching my ankles. I work on the small cloth, leaving me bare as he was.

There were small patches of yellow that marred my skin from bruising. A faint scar along my torso that was magically healed thanks to Quaithe. Sea blue eyes examined my body, taking in the flesh before him. For once, I felt like prey and I covered my breasts.

"Bloody well say something?" I chuckled nervously.

"Alysanne …you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he murmured in awe.

"Are you as scared as I am?" I asked.

"I suppose I must be afraid, aye?" he answered, eyes still locked to my own.

I smiled a little, taking his hand and bringing it up to my breast. Jorah caressed it for a moment, until taking both of my hands and bringing it to his chest.

"This is your last chance," Jorah warned softly. "Once we consummate, I will never let you go."

I smiled softly, appreciating him offering this chance to break the union. I leaned up, standing on my toes to kiss him on the lip.

"I am yours, as you are mine," I whispered along his lips.

Jorah scooped me in his arms and carried me to the bed. He set me in the center, pushing the herbs off the bed to provide space. Our lips met once, twice, and then he was claiming me with earnest, suckling the lower lip until my lips were swelling. I was moving recently under his moving hands, he began slowly until he claimed my left hand. Nibbling first on my fingertips, kissing the ring, then turned my wrist. He traced the veins under my ivory skin, following them to the creases of my elbow. The way his lips and beard felt along my skin sent shudders through me.

From my arm, he inevitably came to my breast. Warmth seeped through my body, while his touch and the slightly chilled air harden my nipples. Jorah sat up, spreading my legs to kneel over me. An aching pressure inside me, wanting him now to seal our consummation. Jorah traces the curve of my breast, cupping it with delicate attention. He slid his thumb around the nipple until it aches. Instinctively, my body pushed into his touch, needing more.

Not liking the touching, I slid hand toward his shaft, which lay semi-erect against my hips, except he pushed my hand away. I pouted, which earned me a chuckle from him. He leaned down, kissing me vigorously, his tongue teasing me. I shuddered as his long-calloused fingers glided to the inside of my thigh, working their way up until they found the folds. I inhaled sharply as he stroked the folds, pressing deeper when making contact with my clit. I whimpered, wanting more, wrapping my arms around him. Jorah inserted his finger inside me. I felt the slide of wetness as he thrust his finger in and out.

"That's it," he cooed.

He stroked and coaxed, sliding in a second finger as my hips rolled to meet his hand. Jorah always does this. He always prepared my body before penetration due to his size. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, moaning when he curled his fingers upwards, pressing my sensitive spot.

"Please," I gasped. "I want you inside me."

"I will," he promised, stroking that spot again.

"Ah!" I gasped once more. "Together, please."

Seeing how desperate I was, he nodded, pulling his fingers out. Carefully, he adjusted my legs as he placed one hand next to my head while his right took hold of his member. He pumped it a few times till it was nice and hard. He leaned down, kissing me while forcing his cock inside me. I moaned, feeling my walls stretch due to his girth and length. Jorah groaned, savoring the moment until moving his left hand to cradle cheek while taking my right hand, entwining our fingers to the side.

He bent my right leg, giving him more access, he began to thrust. Holding back lest eagerness, that would make him rough. I writhed under him with small, needy moans. There was a lot to take, every stroke easing in more and more until every nerve in my body sang. He thrust again and again, and I moaned and gasped. Jorah groaned, his sea-blue eyes piercing into my indigo orbs. He pressed his mouth over mine, swallowing my moans as he found all the right places.

The pace soon started to increase, going faster and harder. Jorah rested his head against my neck while my free hand clings to his back, holding on. Over and over, he impaled me with his flesh. The air leaving my lungs and my walls desperately trying to hold onto him. My hips trying to meet each of his thrusts. It wasn't long until his member grew, twitching inside me. An indication he was close. Pulled back a little, he adjusted our position, raising my hips, as he hammered again. One hand hovered over my mons, twiddling his fingers over my clit. A bolt of pleasure when up my spine. It was too much, my walls clenched around him, and I came. Arching my back with a moan.

"Jorah," I cried.

Jorah hunched over me, claiming my lips thrusting rapidly to gain his release. On the fifth thrust, he came, spilling his seeds. Solidifying the consummation of our marriage.

"Alysanne," Jorah groaned as he collapsed on top of me. His hips bucking a few times as his semen continued to shoot inside.

I wrapped my arms around him. Bodies still tense, slowly recovering from the orgasm. All around, I could feel him inside and out, feeling his heartbeat rapidly against my chest. The smell of sweat coating our skin along with the herbs on the bed. Hearing him panting and the crackling of the fire. Slowly, Jorah slides out and laid on his side. He wrapped an arm around me, bringing me close. I chuckled, resting my head on his chest.

"Now, you are officially my husband," I murmured.

"Aye, and you, my wife," he replied back panting. "I must say, I'm the happiest man alive."

I giggled, which was rare.

Slowly I adjusted myself and picked up one of the bundles of herbs. The scent of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. I felt relaxed from smelling these earthy herbs along with a small hint of basil.

"Is there a tradition with the herbs?" I asked.

Jorah plucked the bundle out of my hand, "Usually, it would be flowers. However, in the winter, herbs replace them."

"Is there a meaning behind them," I asked.

"If I recall correctly, basil means love, parsley is gratitude, sage for wisdom, rosemary is remembrance, and thyme represents courage. Someone really thought hard on the herbs for us." Jorah answered.

"Sounds like a delicious recipe for a stew," I chuckled.

"Or qualities for a babe," he jested.

I paused, looking at him, "Jorah, I want you to know, I do want a babe. I want as many as the gods can allow it. I…I want to wait until the war is over."

Jorah leaned up and pecked me on the lips, "When you are ready. I'm just honored you've chosen me."

I nodded, appreciating it. Once we reclaim King's Landing and Cersei no longer queen will we try for a babe.

We adjusted the furs and blankets, getting underneath to cuddle. I stared at the fireplace, seeing the three dragon eggs still there. A part of me had hoped that by keeping the dragon eggs warm, they would hatch. It was pointless. With how Viserion, Rhaegal, and Drogon were born because of magic, sacrificing a witch. Doubt there are any witches left in Westeros.

Sleep had avoided us, as we lay there admiring each other. Jorah's hand traced along my side and hips. He leaned over, kissing my chest and breast.

"Your breasts are like ivory," he murmured, tracing a finger on the areola. He leaned up giving me a peck. "You with your skin like …white velvet," his hand went down lower. "…and sweet long lines of your body."

I chuckled softly only to be pulled into him for a kiss. A gasp escaped me as he rubbed my privates.

"I couldna look at ye and keep my hands from you nor be near you and not want ye," he continued, voice heavy in a Northern accent.

I continued to kiss him while caressing his face, "Is that how you felt first time we lay together?"

"The moment you kissed me in my tent," he confessed.

He slid a hand to my hip, his palm warm and rough. He hooked my knee, drawing it over his thigh so that space between us disappeared. We kissed again, although I was already wet for him. Locked in the kiss, I slid my hand between us and grabbed his member. Gently pumping it to get it hard once more. By the time he was erect, Jorah had lifted my leg higher to his hip while I guided his cock inside me. He pumped slowly, eyes closed, and our mouths touching then not. The climax was not necessary; it was feeling this connection. Feeling him inside me. After a while, Jorah did come again, and I was content feeling a small flutter in my walls.

We were both exhausted and let sleep consume us.

**.o0o.**

I awoke in the middle of the night. The howling of the winds of a possible storm crossing through. I turned around in Jorah's arm, finding him still asleep. Then again, he can sleep through a blizzard and yet wake from a thunderstorm. Even can wake if he sensed an ominous threat. I smiled softly, then shivered from the cold air.

The fire was going down. With a shudder, I climbed out of bed and carefully removed the eggs before adding another log. Using the fire poker, I managed to maintain the fire, putting the eggs back into place before sitting down on the lounge chair. There was a slight chill, I grabbed the cloak and wrapped it around me. The inside was lined with woven wool and linen while the outside was brown fur. No doubt from a bear, based on the texture is different from wolves, badgers, foxes, and hares.

I sighed, relaxing. I lifted my left hand to examine the ring. It wasn't fancy like the ring from the Veil, but it held Jorah's style. Rugged and simple. I smiled softly when he told me the Mormont tradition of the key becoming a ring. I value the simplest of things rather than luxury. Despite the past four years of being a Queen of Meereen, I didn't overindulge in gold. In fact, the only time I wore so much gold was at the Daznak Pit.

I sighed again, tracing over the scar on my left shoulder. It seems like I acquired a new scar each year in passing. Many years of mental scars, until Viserys cut me along the chest. Then the scars on my back and shoulder and now the scar on my torso, magically induced to save Viserion from the Ice Dragon's infliction.

A sudden rattle caught me off guard as a long strand of pearls came in front of me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Jorah was awake. He softly smiled at me as he placed the pearls down and dropped them on my neck. It was a long necklace that reached to my sternum. I held the bottom end, examining them. Seeing each pearl was of different size and shape, not a perfect sphere.

"They're Bay of Ice pearls," Jorah explained as he sat down on the lounge. "They belonged to my mother. And now they belong to you." He sighed, "They're one of the few things I have left of her and are very precious to me. As are you, Alysanne."

Jorah barely talks about his mother. Lady Mormont died from a tragic illness, one that took her suddenly. Her death severed House Mormont between Jorah and Jeor. All I knew is that she was a strong woman, a shieldmaiden who had the spirit of a mother bear.

I adjusted myself leaning closer to press my lips against his shoulder. On a patch of scarred tissue. We are both damaged people inside and out. Betrayed by our spouses and suffered the consequences of their actions. War and survival marred our skin. Although we come from different customs, he a Northerner and I a Southerner with three cultures of Valyrian, Andal, and Rhoynar, we still make it work.

"I love you," I murmured, cradling his cheek, and kissed him on the lips.

I kissed him again, before pulling back to stare at his eyes. Love and lust mingled together. He maneuvers his leg to straddle the lounge. Securing the cloak, I crawled over and wrapped my legs around his hips. Jorah secured me, wrapping an arm around my waist and buttocks. Slowly he eased me down onto his length. A sigh escaped my lips, feeling his fullness. Jorah leaned down, kissing each of my breasts, while the pearls dance along my skin.

I rested my hands on his shoulders, rocking slowly into him. Our eyes locked to one another, moving our hips together. It was not passionate lovemaking or fucking. No, it was a slow, gentle kind to savor one another. To be close to one another. Carefully I brought the cloak to wrap around Jorah as well. So, we were both warm on this cold winter night.

"I love you too," Jorah murmured, claiming my lips.

I sighed, breathing him in.

.**o0o**.

Outside the door, Quaithe stood there. She could hear the faint moans and sighs, knowing the newly wedded couple were making love at this late hour. Her dark eyes shimmer, having a vision. Multiple visions of the union between Ice and Fire. The same vision she saw back in Qarth. She smiled under her metal mask. Although the smile dimmed for there was an obstacle Alysanne will encounter. Death can make her stronger or destroy her.

Quaithe warned Jorah of this obstacle, but she did not say what it was. Only that Jorah will need to be there and help her see the light and not fall into madness.

Ever so quietly, she left the corridor to give the newly wedded couple peace.

She dwindles in her spell, knowing within a year there shall be a new dragon, with ice in his blood.

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**What do you guys think?**

**There are some inspirations from early episodes of Game of Thrones and Outlander.**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	92. Chapter 92: Frozenfang

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones._**

**_This Chapter is Rated M for Sexual Content_**

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**Chapter 92: Frozenfang**

_Alysanne's POV_

Time seemed to vanish as I lay in bed awake yet not entirely. There was a feeling of being touched, calloused hands sliding along my body with kisses. I stirred somewhat for my body still wanted to sleep after a long night of intimacy. My right leg was lifted as something moved between my legs—a press of a kiss on my right thigh and a movement of a mouth over my flesh.

My eyes fluttered, opening them through a haze to see Jorah down below. He slowly maneuvers my body to lay on my back while performing cunnilingus down below. I felt the lap of his tongue on the folds of my sex; I gasped. One hand over my head bracing myself on the headboard while the others reach out, grasping his hair. I sighed as the pleasure of his actions washed over me in wave after wave of sexual bliss. I pulled my head back moaning, nearly thrashing on the bed, yet Jorah kept me secured. As the pressure of his mouth increased, my limbs flexed and curled. Sweat building up.

Unable to fight it the sensation, I came with a cry. My legs trembled while my grip tightened. How in the Seven does Jorah know how to make my body sing? Like I was a weapon, he can easily manipulate, close to an instrument.

"Well… that's one way…. to wake up." I panted.

Jorah smirked as he kissed his way up my body until reaching my lips, "It's time to wake."

"I don't want to," I mumbled.

"You slept half the morning," he murmured, as he tucks a strand of hair off my face.

"Isn't there a thing called a honeymoon?" I asked, staring into his eyes. "A week, at least of you and I."

Jorah chuckled, "Not when you have Tyrion as your Hand."

"I'm sure Dany can handle him," I assured while moving my hand down between us, grasping his member. "You are not finished."

He was erect. Jorah groaned, bowing his head for he too needed release. Not hesitating, I guided him inside me. Jorah sighed, slowly sliding in until he reached the hilt. My eyes fluttered, feeling the sensation of being full. My hands gripped his shoulders, gaining support. He was inside me, where he belongs, and where I would keep him if I could.

I withered as I took him in, massaging his hard member, striving for a feeling that might last forever. Jorah gave me everything he had. A series of slow thrusts. I tried to urge him by raising my hips, wrapping my legs around his waist, allowing free rein to do as he pleases with. He went deep, hitting my core, again and again, sinking into me, stroking my depth with an effort to make his arms shake and cause my thighs to weaken.

Suddenly there was banging on the door. Jorah groaned as he increased the pace, trying to gain release. I moaned loudly when he struck that spot. Immediately, his hand covered my mouth to suppress my cries.

Who in the Seven Hells be knocking at this time? Missandei was given a few days off and Daenerys knows better not to interfere. So, either it is an emergency or the last two men will be facing dragon fire.

"Your Grace, are you awake?" Tyrion called out while knocking on the door.

Jorah continued to thrust, yet we remained silent. His pace is not strong enough to allow the sound of slapping skin against skin. I took a deep breath through my nose, trying not to laugh at the situation. Something young couples would deal with.

"Your Grace?" Tyrion called out. "King Jorah? Queen Alysanne?"

"I believe the Queen and King are occupied," Varys warned.

"Still, we need to prepare," Tyrion said.

"If you value your life, you let them be for the next few days," Varys said.

The sound of footsteps could be heard leaving. Once they were out of hearing, Jorah could no longer take it and began to thrust rapidly. He moved in and out with strokes, hard strokes burying himself inside me with his eyes closed. I took him in, matching the force of his ardor. Jorah claimed my lips, as I found ecstasy in every thrust and withdrawal from the movement of his hips and flexing of his back.

I panted still recovering watching as Jorah seek release. A few more thrust, Jorah groaned, bowing his head and came. Spilling his seeds inside me while thrusting slowly until he was spent. We panted, staring at one another until my husband collapsed on top of me. I did not mind the weight. Many women would feel crushed, yet I felt security.

"Did Tyrion actually call me a King?" Jorah asked.

"I believe he did," I chuckled, pecking his temple.

Jorah adjusted himself, as he slowly pulled out and rolled onto his back, "Bet it taste like bile to him."

I sat up, "Well, it is a bit too late for that. Now that we have consummated."

Jorah nodded with a slight smile, "You don't regret marrying an old man?"

"I don't, I prefer older men. Besides, I have a choice," I murmured, scooting closer, crossing my arms on his chest. "And as an added bonus, secure an alliance with the North once the war is over."

Jorah nodded, resting a hand on my back, rubbing his fingers along the spine, then he frowns, "You asked for volunteers from the Northerners, yet are you concerned about Jon revealing his secret?"

I sighed, tracing his chest along with the scars, "I asked Jon to hold his secret until we reclaim King's Landing. We have Martell, Tyrell, and Wensington's support. House Arryn is still under tribunal guardianship until Robin Arryn comes of age. As for the North… their numbers have dwindled because of the Long Night. It will be twenty years before they get the armies they need to go against us." I took a deep breath and kissed his chest. "In the end, it is Jon's decision to tell his siblings. I pray for no more wars upon the kingdoms for another thousand years."

"Realistically a hundred years," his cynic side said. "But with three dragons, I doubt any wars will happen during your reign."

I smiled softly, "Don't you mean, _our_ reign?"

"I am a consort, although I will not be arranging fancy parties." He muttered.

I couldn't help but laugh. "And a War General. Shall I make a Master of something too?"

Jorah replied by cupping my buttocks and giving a squeeze.

I chuckled, "And hopefully, the father of my children."

He nodded with a content smile. "Wee lads and lasses."

I nodded, leaning up to kiss him, "I hope so. I also noticed your accent becoming more noticeable," I murmured.

Jorah merely shrugged.

Suddenly there was a prominent growl of our stomachs demanding food. Unable to resist, we got up to prepare for the day. As much as we would like to stay in the room. Our bodies crave substance. So, we got out of bed, washing, and dressing. Although once we are outside, we were no longer in a secret relationship. No longer Queen and General. No, this time we left the room as husband and wife.

For once, I am happy not to hide anymore.

**.o0o.**

In a small solar, my council went over the details. As much as I would have a honeymoon and not the day after with Tyrion and Varys going over reports and gossip. At least I am not alone, as Jorah sat next to me. There are times I feel like Tyrion enjoys talking, enjoying hearing himself. I'm questioning why I have let Tyrion become my Hand. Varys seemed to notice this.

"My birds who are still faithful to me confirmed that the secret tunnels have not been discovered or at least guarded," Varys reported.

Tyrion tensed as he looked at Varys. I stared at the Spider pleased, for that is something I have been asking about. Jorah nodded as he stood up and gestured to the map to King's Landing.

"If we have the Martells and Tyrell's guarding the city, and the dragons handle Euron's fleet, we can get the Unsullied through the tunnels to seize the Red Keep," Jorah advises. "Give the distraction of the barricade and take hold from the inside."

"That means the civilians will not be harmed, not like the last Siege," I said.

_Not like the Lannisters,_ I thought. Not wanting to be disrespectful to Tyrion.

We went over the strategies, seeing the war general come out of Jorah as he took control. Grey Worm was fascinated as always, listening to take note. Varys guided us on where the tunnels were. Varys is about the good for the realm. He knows I use violence as a last resort. So, seeing how Jorah and I plan for the battle is pleasing for the Master of Whisperers. This will be a good rough draft. Once we secure a plan, we will present it to the War Council.

Once we were done, Varys and Grey Worm left. Jorah stood up about to leave, although I turned to Tyrion.

"The next few days, I do not want to wake to you knocking on our door, Tyrion," I said.

Tyrion tensed.

"And once we are living in the Red Keep, you won't have the privilege to enter Maegor's Holdfast, without an invitation," I said with a serious tone. "You are Hand of the Queen, know your place."

"Of course, Your Grace," Tyrion said with a bow. "Forgive me for my intrusion."

I nodded; once we are settled, things will get better. I will have my privacy, and not have my Small Council following me everywhere. Just because I am a Queen, does not mean I want to be followed around. I want respect and privacy. Then again, I am an introvert. Not someone who goes dancing and partying. Jorah has the same view. In his youth, he would have enjoyed the more lavish lifestyle, especially from his second wife, Lynesse. However, he is a Mormont, thriving through harsh times by nature.

When Tyrion was excused, he left more quickly than I have seen him do before. As the door shut, Jorah shook his head before looking at me.

"Better put boundaries up," I said. "Just because I gave Missandei the day off doesn't mean Tyrion can waltz in."

Jorah nodded in agreement, "He doesn't approve."

"He expected me to marry a Great House, a highly respected Noble House," I said.

"Or himself," he concluded.

I scoffed, "I doubt, I could handle his monologue and cockiness."

"And not his height?" he inquires.

"I don't care about one's appearance," I reminded. "Although, I have heard the tales of Tyrion's sexual escapades."

Jorah snorted, shaking his head.

"But I have a well-experienced husband," I murmured.

Jorah smiled as he leaned over and kissed me. I kissed him back, savoring it.

"What shall we do today?" I asked.

"Whatever you like," he answered.

"Careful," I warned playfully.

Jorah smirked, they say during the newlywed phase, there is a lot of desire. I can sense this. I wanted to take him now. I've never had this craving until now. My husband can sense this too.

"Why not go for a walk," Jorah suggested, pulling back and offered a hand.

I chuckled and nodded as I accepted his hand standing up. We stopped to grab our cloaks before heading outside seeing the reconstruction for Winterfell was well underway. The Unsullied has been providing significant assistance in the repairs. With the recent snowfall, there was some struggle. In the end, the Northerners were now accepting. There was some bigotry, but no longer hostility.

It wasn't long until we reached to the Godswood.

The atmosphere was welcoming.

"You know, when I first came in here to see Bran, I had this unwelcome feeling in the Godswoods," I confessed. "As if the Old Gods were not pleased with me."

Jorah stared at me with a nod, "Many Southerners feel that."

"Well, after the Andals came and burning many weirwoods, I wouldn't blame the Old Gods having hesitation with Southerners. But last night, I felt welcome," I said.

"Well, you have respected all religions," he replied.

I nodded. In the end, the atmosphere is calm. The scent of fresh crisp snows, weirwood, and evergreen. We found a fallen branch and sat down, savoring our surroundings. It brought back moments during the early parts of our relationship when training. After sparing with the training swords, we would sit down and relax. Taking in our surroundings.

Over time, the sky started to grow darker, nearing dusk.

That was when Daenerys came over, holding something in her hand. She had Kovarro and a few of her guards but stopped them at the forest line. She walked over with a smile. A smile I haven't seen in a long time. One with an excitement. Staring at what is in her hand had me concerned. I haven't forgotten the time she found a frog and brought it over to me, before the frog leaped in my direction. Or back in Qarth when she teased me about liking Jorah.

"Should I be afraid with that deviant smile?" I questioned.

"No," Daenerys chuckled. "Jorah, can I have a moment with my sister?"

Jorah nodded as he stood up and walked over to the guards. Daenerys took his spot, placing the object on her lap. It was long and narrow, wrapped in linen.

"So…how does it feel to be married, especially with someone you love?" she asked.

"It feels wonderful," I answered with a smile.

"I can see you barely slept," she teased.

"Dany!" I exasperated, smacking her shoulder.

Daenerys laughed, "I couldn't resist."

"Especially with your matchmaking," I teased.

"Well, I did plant the seed," she murmured.

"Back in Qarth," I said.

"Oh, I had the idea back in the Red Waste. I saw the way he was looking at you, in fact, I noticed when we left Vaes Dothrak." She said. "Either way, I am happy for you. You deserve to be happy after everything you did for me."

I nodded, "Just because I'm married doesn't stop me from loving you."

Daenerys nodded as she rested the package on my lap. "I intended to give it to you last night, but I didn't want to ruin the moment."

"You shouldn't have," I murmured.

"Believe me, you deserve it," she assures it.

I smiled softly, removing the wrappings to reveal what the item was. My eyes widen, realizing what it was. It was an arming sword, and by the look of it, it was brand new. The scabbard was made between wood and metal, as the locket and chape were made of silver. The scabbard was made out of ebony, with intricate etchings of three dragons, the staining and metal design that can make the details of Viserion, Rhaegal, and Drogon. The pommel was a dragon's head…not any dragon head…but an ice dragon, with sapphires for eys. The crossguard was a multiple fuller, resembling dragon wings, while on the rainguard was an etching of another dragon that had topaz for eyes.

"You shouldn't have," I said.

"Draw the sword," she insisted.

I was confused, separating the blade from the scabbard to examine it. My eyes widen, realizing what kind of steel it was. It was not castle forge steal. No…this was Valyrian Steel. The Damascus print was there, like fire. Only this patter was different, it almost resembles a fire swirl…although there was a slight tint of blue.

"How?" I asked. "Where did you get Valyrian steel?"

"This used to be the Targaryen sword, father and Viserys' sword," she answered.

"I thought I lost it, or it was destroyed…"

"Jon, Grey Worm, and Tormund went to the Ice Dragon's remains and found it lodged in its chest. Grey Worm gave it to me, and I handed over to Durak. He knew how to reforge Valyrian Steel since the ice fractured it. I thought of making it something new. Make it your own sword. The sword that slayed the Ice Dragon."

I stared at the sword, removing my glove to feel the steel. It was cold, then again, it was winter. Yet it was colder than ever.

"Durak says this was a different experience; the pattern came naturally, along with the tint. He thinks there was magic in the Ice Dragon's blood." She said.

I nodded, still in a trance while staring at the sword. The encounter, the fight, and duel…I thought I wouldn't make it. Having Viserion toss me in the air, and the Targaryen sword piercing the heart of the Ice Dragon. The sound of its shriek, the cracking of skin like ice itself, and falling. The nightmares of the Ice Dragon taunted me. A dragon imprisoned for eight thousand years being trapped in the Wall. Seeing humanity walking over you and not able to escape. Not until Joramun horns to break the spell and be bound to the Night King. Once free from another spell only to die by my hands. All that anger leads to destruction. The Ice Dragon reminded me that anger leads to nowhere but death.

"What are you going to call it?" Daenerys asked.

"Huh?" I replied.

"What are you going to name it?" she asked. "It's no longer the Targaryen sword."

"No, it is not," I agreed. "Doubt I could call it Ice without insulting the Starks?"

"Probably," she chuckled.

I tried to think of possible names. There were four dragons on this sword, the rebirth of the dragons on the scabbard, and the Ice Dragon on the pommel, and Viserion on the crossguard. Then I remember back at the feast to celebrate our victory from the Long Night. What Tormund called me. What was the nickname again…oh right, Frozenfang?

"Frozenfang," I said.

"Frozenfang," Daenerys repeated with a smile. "Dark Sister and Frozenfang to complete the collection."

"No, there is still one Valyrian sword missing," I murmured.

"And which sword is that?" she asked.

"Blackfyre," I answered. "Aegon's sword."

"And where is Blackfyre?"

"Jorah told me he saw it in the Golden Company, in the hands of their Captain."

Daenerys smirked, "So after fighting Cersei, we will have all three."

"All three dragon swords will be back in our family's care," I murmured.

Daenerys nodded. That has been one of the few of the many relics House Targaryen that I wanted. The return of our ancestral swords. Dark Sister was taken beyond the Wall by Bloodraven, and a hundred and fifty years later to come back by a cripple boy who became the Three-Eyed Raven. Now Blackfyre is in our enemy's hands.

"It's getting late," Daenerys pointed out, as the sky started to get dark. "I assume you are eating in your chamber?"

"Yes, I want to enjoy as much time as I can with Jorah before ruling a kingdom takes over," I said.

"Speaking of which, are you still taking the Lys Elixir?"

"Dany!"

"What? You're married now, how did that children song go? First comes love, second comes marriage, third comes a baby in a – "

I covered her mouth, shushing her. She started laughing at that. I shook my head, no matter what age, she can still be childish.

"We're gonna wait on kids until we claim the Iron Throne," I explained.

"Just don't wait too long," she said.

I nodded, "Just a year."

Daenerys nodded as she gave me a hug.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"You're welcome," she replied back.

We got up, heading back to the men. All of us headed back to the Castle, where we went our separate ways. Daenerys says she will send food up. I thanked her as Jorah and I went back to our quarters. When we arrived, we found Jorah's trunk and gear inside, along with my dress and the Mormont cloak put away. Missandei must have done this to get us settled.

"I see you have a new sword," Jorah noted.

I removed the belt handing the sword to him. Jorah took hold of the sword and pulled out a few inches to examine the blade.

"This is Valyrian Steel," Jorah said.

"It used to be the Targaryen Sword, Daenerys had Durak reforge it," I said. "I'm calling it Frozenfang."

Jorah nodded with an amused smile as he sheaths it handing the sword back. I accepted it, placing the sword on the table and walked over to the mantle where Dark Sister was. I took hold of it and handed it to him.

"I want you to be secure," I said. "I know you value your sword. But until then, I want you to have Dark Sister."

"I don't think I am worthy," he said.

"Well, hold onto it until our children are grown enough to wield it," I teased.

Jorah snorted, setting Dark Sister down and picking me up along with a kiss. I laughed against his lips as he laid me down on the bed. I'm definitely going to enjoy the honeymoon phase.

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**Hey guys, I hope you enjoy Sister's Keeper so far.**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	93. Chapter 93: Leaving Winterfell

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_Language_**

Common Tongue

_Valyrian_

**Dothraki**

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**Chapter 93: Leaving Winterfell**

_Alysanne POV _

I stared at Visenya as she sat on the Stone Throne with Dark Sister in hand. She held a serious face. We have not communicated since the day before my wedding. That was nearly a month ago—practically two months spent in restoring Winterfell and allowing the soldiers to recover from the Long Night. Word has already spread of my marriage to Jorah. Seeing her with a serious face was a sign.

"It is time," Visenya said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, your men have recovered long enough," she answered. "You promised the southern lords for the attack in five months' time. It will take a month for your men to march south since the coast is not safe."

I took a deep breath. Visenya got up as she marched over and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"You have slain the Undying Ones. You have conquered Slaver's Bay and abolished slavery. And most of all, you've defeated the Ice Dragon in the Long Night. There's nothing to be afraid. You can take back King's Landing and restore House Targaryen once and for all." She murmured.

"Will I be a good queen?" I asked. "Am I capable of ruling six kingdoms?"

"I know you are," she assured me. "You have a consort who sees the harsh side of the world. A

Hand, though, needs to reduce his drinking, yet understands politics along with a Master of Whisperers who is focused on the Realm. The Realm will come first. Too many selfish rulers have destroyed the purpose of a monarchy. It is time to unite the Six Kingdoms. And it can't happen when an imposter sits on the Iron Throne."

I nodded.

"It will be terrifying," she said. "That is why I had you rule the Bay of Dragons before Westeros. You can do this, and I will be there for you."

I took a deep breath, "I fear of people dying because of me."

"Many fears of death, except right now the noble houses fear the Lannisters. Any fail attempts to please the Lioness, the common people are held accountable. Right now, she has the refugees and citizens of the Crownlands fill King's Landing to prevent you from using the dragons." She informed.

"The dragons will not harm the people," I promised. "We're going to form a blockade, preventing shipments from coming in so the people can knock her out. Meanwhile, when they least expect it, take the tunnels to overthrow her."

Visenya nodded pleased, "You are just like me if only you came from my bloodline."

I smiled softly, "You have been there for me since the beginning."

"All because you were tempted to kill your brother," she murmured.

I sighed, rubbing my neck, "Not my proudest moment."

"But it broke the chain and allow your spirit to come to me," she explained. "You can do this. I know you can. Listen to your council, but remember you are a dragon. The Dragoness of the West."

I nodded.

Visenya nodded as she pecked my cheek.

When I open my eyes, I found myself back in my bedroom in Winterfell. Jorah was already awake, as he got dressed for the day. I watched his muscles flex and fingers moved around. He turned around, seeing me awake, and gave a small smile before walking over to give me a kiss. We've been married for a month now—the pleasures of sharing a bed without any secrets. As much as I want to savor this, Visenya announcement held me tightly.

Jorah noticed this and pulled back, "What is it?"

"It's time," I said.

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes narrow in comprehension slightly, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, "I'm sure. We have three months left before the siege. It's time."

Jorah nodded, "As you wish."

With nothing else to say, I gave him a peck before getting out of bed and dress for the day. Putting on my usual black attire and hair braided. Once we were fully dressed and groomed, we headed off to the solar room where breakfast was being served. When we entered, Tyrion, Varys, Daenerys, Missandei, and Grey Worm were there eating.

"Good morning, you grace," Varys greeted as he stood up, giving a bow. "Has the royal couple slept well?"

"We have," Jorah confirmed, leaving it there. "Alysanne has something to announce."

All the men stood while Missandei and Daenerys remained in their seats. All eyes were on me.

I took a deep breath, "It has been two months since the Long Night. Enough time spent in recovery and helping House Stark restore Winterfell. With winter being here, it will probably take a month and a half to reach the Crownlands and collect able body soldiers."

"Are you sure, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked.

"I am," I answered.

"Very well," he replied.

We gathered around at the table. I focused on Daenerys, for I have a huge favor for her. One I can only trust since Drogon is the only dragon able to fly for a long distance. Viserion can only fly for a short distance and needs to rest. Along with being a Targaryen.

"Daenerys, I need to ask you a favor," I started.

"What is it, sister?" she asked.

"I need you to fly down south to Dorn and get the Dornish ready for battle. Hopefully, in three months, the Six Kingdoms will be ready to invade King's Landing." I answered.

Daenerys paused, thinking about it before nodding, "I could use the warmer climate. I'll have Kovarro in charge with Jorah."

I nodded, pleased by her response.

"When do you want to leave?" Tyrion asked.

"In a week," I answered. "Enough time for the men to get the supplies ready, wagons pack, and prepare for the long march."

They all nodded.

We ate breakfast, going over the plans. Tyrion advising Daenerys to fly through Westeros and not along the coastal region. Varys has confirmed that Euron's fleet has control over Blackwater Bay in the Crownlands. It would be dangerous for her to make a stop at Dragonstone since their ships have been spotted. Right now, the Valyrian Islands of Claw Isle and Driftmark. Celtigar and Velaryon I had ordered to evacuate the islands. Ser Terrance warned his grandfather Lord Ardian will be stubborn. He will demand compensation after hearing what Euron is capable of. Meanwhile, Captain Aurane went to Driftmark to ensure his nephew and the citizens of the island are safe. The island colonies taking refuge at Gulltown in the Vale of Arryn.

After breakfast, I excused myself and headed off to find Jon. A servant informed me that his grace is in his studies. I headed over there with Jorah, on the other side of the Castle. The interior of the main Castle is almost back to proper conditions, as the shudders and glass windows have been replaced along with the furnishing. The actual damage towards Winterfell has been the exterior, primarily the courtyards, battlements, and buildings that are not attached to the Castle. Especially the wall and tower the Ice Dragon had destroyed.

When we reached Jon's study, a squire stood outside and knocked, "Your Grace, Queen Alysanne and King Jorah are here."

"Send them in," Jon replied.

The squire nodded, opening the door to allow us in. Inside, we found Jon sitting by his desk with Lady Sansa standing next to him holding a parchment, while Maester Walkons stood by with scrolls. Glancing at the desk to see the fundamental blueprints of the city. Maester Walkon gave a formal greeting while Lady Sansa and Jon nodded.

"Your Grace, what do I owe this pleasure?" Jon asked.

"Your Grace, I came to inform you the time has come for my armies to march south," I answered.

Jon's eyes widen, and mouth parted slightly.

I turned my direction to the Lady of Winterfell, "Lady Sansa, I thank you for your hospitality and service for my men."

"The pleasure is all mine, and I thank you for aiding the North and helping in the restoration,"

Lady Sansa said. "May I ask when you plan on your departure?"

"Within a week, enough time to prepare for the long march south," I replied. "A shipment should be on its way, enough to provide both of us for the following journey."

Lady Sansa nodded.

Jon stood up, "It's short notice, but I am sure I can get my men ready."

"Your Grace," I stopped him. "The North has suffered enough. Your men are tired and deserve to rest."

Jon was about to open his mouth, but I interrupted him.

"There was this song in western Essos. _'_Take root in the ground. Live in harmony with the wind. Plant your seeds in the winter. And rejoice with the birds in the coming of spring'_. _"I said.

"She's right, Jon, the North can't handle any more wars." Lady Sansa added.

Jon sighed, "Then I'm coming with you."

"No," Lady Sansa and I barked in protest.

I cannot risk my nephew's life. From all the rumors I have heard and the scars I have seen, he needs to rest. Let him finally be at peace and rule his kingdom. Let him focus on rebuilding the North, for many towns and villages have been destroyed because of the Ends march. Aid the Wildlings in new territory or their departure to return home.

Lady Sansa took a deep breath, "The North needs their king now than ever before."

"I agree with Lady Sansa," Maester Walkon spoke out. "The people need you in these dark times."

"I made a vow to serve House Targaryen," Jon reminded. "Must I take back my word?"

"Jon," I sighed, which got his attention. "Your Vow has served me in the Long Night. And though you told Cersei of our alliance…I must end your vow there. Your people need you. Your family needs you. A ruler is responsible for their people, despite their honor. The Realm comes first."

"Thank you," Lady Sansa praised.

"I will leave Rhaegal here in the North in case Cersei dares brings an army," I announced. "Jon managed to tame him."

Lady Sansa nodded.

With nothing else to say, Jorah and I left the room to give them privacy.

**"Are you sure you don't want Jon's help?"** Jorah asked in Dothraki.

**"The North has suffered enough,"** I answered. "**They need to focus on rebuilding and surviving the winters.** Maester Walkon **says summer lasted ten years, and five years of autumn. How long will this winter last? The South can manage, but can they?"**

**"You brought a fair point,"** he murmured.

I nodded, also I need to secure the Targaryen legacy. If anything were to happen to Daenerys and I, at least I will know the bloodline will continue…even if the name has gone extinct. I pray Dany, and I will survive this war. But if something were to happen to us, at least I know Jon will continue the bloodline and restore House Targaryen's name. Speaking of which, it is best I start writing some documents for him. So, he can know the truth about his father. Even though my memories of my childhood are gone, I still have the knowledge that can be recalled.

**.o0o.**

_Tyrion and Jaime POV_

The two brothers were at a small tavern enjoying one's company. Tyrion is pleased that Alysanne had decided to wait, giving the Unsullied and Dothraki time to recover and the southern armies to get a head start to switch the men. Hence, there are freshly trained soldiers ready for the siege. The siege will be different than the siege Tywin Lannister had performed. This time, they will wait for the city, only fighting the soldiers who dare attack. And during the long wait, if the people don't overthrow Cersei, they will use the tunnels to get into the Red Keep.

Jaime just hopes Tyrion's plan works since there is a slight issue. One that both brothers has not told anyone about. The fact that Cersei is pregnant with Jaime's child. The Kingslayer regretted his decisions from the past. Not realizing until it was too late how manipulated he was, and the brainwashing of the Lannister's definition of _family_. If all goes well, he will make a difference as Lord of Casterly Rock. But he can't join the battle. He can't serve a hateful woman at the same time he can't fight against her. That is one of his reasons. Another is, he found love in Ser Brienne. She has seen the worse and has forgiven him when everyone would judge.

"So, she's going to stay here with you?" Tyrion asked.

Jaime paused before nodding, "She's sworn to protect the Stark girls, so…"

Tyrion adjusted his eyebrows and nodded.

Jaime felt uncomfortable with his silence, "Say something snide."

Tyrion stared at him, offended, "I'm happy. I'm happy that you're happy."

Jaime stared at him in question.

"I'm happy that you'll finally have to climb for it," Tyrion jest, raising his tankard.

Jaime couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head.

"Do you know how long I've waited to tell tall-person jokes?" Tyrion inquired. "To climbing mountains."

Jaime raised his glass as the two clang their tankards together, "To climbing mountains."

They each to a gulp of their ale. It wasn't rich as wine, yet it gave them a buzz they needed for this celebration. However, Tyrion won't stop there.

"What's she like down there?" he asked.

Jaime nearly gagged in his drink, "What? That's not your concern."

"I haven't been with a woman for years," Tyrion said, leaning closer, setting his drink down.

"Give me a morsel."

Jaime scoffed, not believing it. But it is true. The last person Tyrion slept with was Shae. The betrayal from his lover struck him hard. So hard that when he tried to perform to forget about Shae, at the brothel in Volantis, he couldn't get it up for Clea. Yes, the woman was a slave prostitute, but their conversation was comforting, as she spoke the truth when spotting a liar. If only he stayed longer to pry further into her mind. Otherwise, no women awaken his cock to perform. Even the prostitutes in Meereen, when offering them to the Three Masters didn't stir.

_Impotence_, he thought he would never experience it until he is sixty. Although he probably gains satisfaction from a woman performing oral…it just wouldn't be fair to be one-sided. Tyrion used to enjoy returning the favor and ravishing women. Now he has a big cock that does nothing than piss.

"You're a dog," Jaime countered slightly in disgust.

"I am the Imp, and I demand to know," Tyrion ordered, pounding his finger on the table.

"I knew you were fucking her," a third voice said, entering the room.

The two Lannister brothers look up, glancing at the door to see none other than Bronn standing there with a crossbow. Jaime realized that it's no ordinary crossbow. It was ornate, ones only nobility have, with stags and lions carved into it. It was Joffrey's crossbow. Bronn made is way over.

"A pair of tall, blond toffs. Must be like looking in a mirror," Bronn continued.

"Ser Bronn of the Blackwater," Tyrion greeted bewilder then noticing something off. "Where's your drink? What are you – what are you doing up North?"

Jaime, not drunk, stared at the crossbow, "What are you doing with that?"

"Oh, this?" Bronn replied, raising the crossbow, then grabbed a chair sitting down across from them. "This is for you. For both of you."

"You're supposed to be south," Tyrion murmured.

"You boys are a pair of gold-plated cunts. Do you know that?" Bronn countered casually.

"That's a bit rude," Tyrion mumbled.

"Year after year, I've shoveled Lannister shit, and what do I have to show?" Bronn asked.

"You're a knight, thanks to me," Tyrion reminded.

"Thanks to me," Bronn corrected. "And that title's worth as much as a blind hair from your brother's ballsack."

"Power resides when men believe—" Tyrion started.

"Shut your mouth," Bronn warned, aiming the crossbow at Jaime.

Tyrion merely nodded, "I'm just trying –"

"I've never hit a dwarf before, but say another word, and I will belt you." Bronn threatened.

Tyrion raised his finger, "See, I don't believe you'd so that, after all –"

Before couldn't finish it quote, when Bronn snapped his wrist, punching Tyrion in the nose. The sellsword knight kept his word, bursting a blood vessel in the dwarf's nose. Jaime stood up, yet Bronn placed his hands around the trigger, where a _clink_ was heard, indicating the weapon was ready to be fired.

"You couldn't do it on your best day, you one-handed fuck. And your best days are long gone."

Bronn challenged, sitting back down, keeping the crossbow aimed at Jaime's chest.

Tyrion groaned, holding his bloody nose, "You broke my nose!"

"I did not break your nose," Bronn countered.

"How do you know?" Tyrion wined, trying to keep the blood from seeping out.

"Because I've been breaking noses since I was your size, and I know what it sounds like. Now listen," Bronn explained sarcastically before getting serious.

Jaime sat down, knowing Bronn had the upper hand.

"Your sister offered me Riverrun. Nice big castle, good lands, plenty of peasants who do what they're told." Bronn started.

"House Tully has reclaimed Riverrun," Tyrion reminded, groaning, grabbing a handkerchief out of his pocket.

"And you trust Cersei—" Jaime started.

"I knew your sister was dead the second I saw those dragons," Bronn interrupted. "Now, your army may be torn to shit, but I'd still bet on your Dragon Queen to win. And it just so happens I'm a betting man." He leaned over, stealing Tyrion's tankard. "If Cersei's dead, she can't pay up." He took a gulp. "Mmm, that's good. Of course, the odds change if the Dragon's Queen's Hand turns up dead. Maybe a few of her top generals get picked off one by one. And all of a sudden…"

Tyrion doubted it since Alysanne has Martell and Tyrell's support. Based on the reports, Willas is an intelligent man despite being a cripple. Unlike his father, grandfather, and two brothers. He is the true grandson of Lady Olenna. Practically an even match to him in intelligence. Other than age and height, the only thing that makes them different is Willas is not a drunken lecher. Prince Doran is also an intelligent man, even with gout, he will offer wisdom to Alysanne. So, if Tyrion does end up dead, Alysanne will not be hindered by having either of them. As much as he hates to admit it.

"May I speak?" Tyrion asked.

"Why not?" Bronn answered, annoyed. "Only death will shut you up."

Tyrion took a deep breath lowering his hand. "We made a deal long ago. Do you remember?"

"If anyone offered me money to kill you, you'd pay me double." Bronn quoted. "What's double Riverrun?"

Tyrion paused, thinking about it. All the Great Houses locations have been restoring or reinstated to new houses. The Martells still own Sunspear and the Water Gardens. Let alone the Dornish will not accept a sellsword as their new Prince/Warden even if Bronn somehow married the Princess. The Tyrells still have Highgarden, can't take that away from them. The Eyrie belongs to Robin Arryn. Storm's End reinstated to House Wensington. The North belongs to the Starks and the Northerners. And the Iron Islands gain their independence through Queen Yara… removing Pyke. There was Casterly Rock; however, Bronn will point out the minds were dried up. He won't be able to gain anything. And Harrenhal is practically cursed and will take a decade to repair. So, what famous or flourish property can Tyrion offered to Bronn. One that has no cadet branch Houses to reclaim it.

Then Tyrion thought of one location that has recently gone extinct thanks to Joffrey's death. Varys informed him of the truth about who killed Joffrey or at least had a part in the regicide. Thanks to Little Finger, sending Ser Dontos Hollard to take Sansa away and getting a kill in the process. House Rykker has been extinct along with House Darklyn. And with Ser Dontos dead, it leaves Dun Fort vacant.

"Dun Fort," Tyrion answered. "You could be Lord of Duskendale."

"Dun Fort? Are you mad?" Jaime asked his brother. Since Jaime knew it was being run by a spinster woman, the last of the Rykkers.

"It's better than being dead," Tyrion argued.

"He's not going to kill us," Jaime disagreed.

Bronn pulled the trigger causing the arrow to fly and striking the pillar behind Jaime. The arrow being six inches away from the Lion's ear. His green eyes widen, staring at Bronn in disbelief. Bronn reloaded quickly, aiming directly into Jaime's face.

"The way I see it, I only need one of the Lannister brothers alive," Bronn murmured. "And your brother has the queen's ear."

"Duskendale will never belong to a cutthroat," Jaime promised.

He knew the struggles Duskendale went through since the Defiance of Duskendale. How they had the courage to challenge and kidnapped the Mad King, under Ser Symon Hollard and Lord Denys Darklyn. The perfect opportunity to put the end of the Mad King and allow Rhaegar to be King. One mistake both sides wish had happened.

"No? Who were your ancestors, the ones who made your family rich? Fancy lads in silks? They were fucking cutthroats. That's how all the great houses started, isn't it? With a hard bastard who was good at killing people. Kill a few hundred people, they make you a lord."

Of course, the Lannisters beginning was different for Lann the Clever. There were two sides to the story. One that the Lannisters says is that Lann snuck into Casterly Rock and made House Casterly believe the Castle was haunted. Scaring the Casterly out of their home never to return. When the most realistic approach that they try to hide, is that Lann the Clever slept with Lord Casterly's daughters impregnating them when they were unconscious. To prevent a scandal, Lord Casterly had no choice but to marry his eldest daughter and heir to Lann. The Lannisters try to keep it under the rug.

"Kill a few thousand, they make you King. And then all your cocksucking grandsons can ruin the family with their cocksucking ways," Bronn finished taking another drink of ale then slammed the tankard on the table. "Dun Fort. Give me your word."

Tyrion looked at his once friend in the eyes, "You have my word."

Bronn nodded.

"None of this means a thing until we take King's Landing," Tyrion added. "We ride south in a few days. We could use an officer with knowledge of the city's defenses."

Bronn chuckled, shaking his head while standing up, "Oh, no. No, my fighting days are done. But I still got a few killing days left you hear me? I'll come find you when the war is done. Till then, don't die."

Bronn made his departure.

Jaime stared at Tyrion, "Dun Fort?"

"It was better than Harrenhal," Tyrion explained.

"I would most definitely have an arrow in me if you said Harrenhal," Jaime muttered.

Tyrion nodded in agreement. Now he just needs to figure out how to tell Queen Alysanne about the new Lord of Duskendale. This will definitely get him in trouble. Hopefully, a bruised bloody nose can earn him some sympathy points. Jaime on the other hand, is concern that Cersei wants both of them dead. Not just Tyrion, but him as well.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys was leaving a day early before the army was marching south. The past few days, she made her Dothraki council putting Kovarro in charge. Kovarro is the last of her khas since her marriage to Drogo. Rakharo's death in the Red Waste by the traitor kos, who became Khals out of her husband's khalasar. And Aggo, he passed away during the Long Night, being torn to pieces by a Wight Giant. Kovarro, the youngest of the three, survived this long and learned throughout the years. Her truest bloodrider.

Kovarro promised he will lead the Dothraki south with Ser Jorah's guidance. It breaks her heart that the majority of the Dothraki had fallen during the Long Night, leaving barely over thirty-thousand bloodriders. It was a hard decision, but once they removed Cersei, Daenerys will be sending the Dothraki back to Essos. She can't risk the extinction of a proud race. Yes, she left half the population back in Vaes Dothrak. However, the majority there are women, the elderly, and children. It will take a generation or two before their population is back to normal.

She sighed, securing her white coat with red trim. It will take four days to a week to reach Sunspear. Prince Doran is already waiting for her arrival since the decision was made over a month ago. She went over the maps, learning about the different routes she can take to get to Dorne. How she can stop and recover at Riverrun and Highgarden if need be. Of course, Daenerys can last days on Drogo and never feel sore.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Daenerys said, believing it was Alysanne or Missandei.

"Drogon is ready," Jon announced as he entered.

Daenerys tensed. She has been avoiding Jon since that night during the feast. During feasts, meetings, and passing, she has been courteous. However, she has limited to having a conversation. Blaming herself in being so naïve thinking Jon could be the one. He was different from all the men she has encountered. But alas, the fates take away her happiness in a companion, by revealing Jon to be her nephew. If Jon wasn't raised by the Northern standards and Alysanne not making the sacred vow to their ancestors, they could have been together.

Yet Daenerys knew why, even if she was barren. The incest was taboo. And if she were able to produce a child, then that child will have difficulties. Would the child be born with madness or deformities? Will the child die in her womb or be born stillborn? The thoughts aggravated her.

She turned around, facing Jon, "Thank you."

Jon nodded, opening his mouth, then closed it. The tension-filled the air, the frustration, and hurt from their last sincere conversation. They have been civil towards one another for Alysanne's sake. Although, how can they ignore their feelings over the months they shared at Dragonstone and the two voyages.

"Daenerys, I…" he started, then stop.

"What is it?" she asked with hope.

Jon sighed as he stepped forward, placing a peck on her forehead. Daenerys's heart drop, for that seemed like a familiar peck, one that relatives give and not a romantic partner. He pulled back, looking into her hurt lilac eyes.

"Be careful," he said.

Daenerys trying to hide her hurt, sighed, "I will." She placed her hand on his chest, where his scars resign, "Take care, Jon Snow. I hope you find some happiness."

"Dany…" he started but stopped.

She shook her head, "Just remember your promise. As much as I rather you keep the secret to your grave…wait until Alysanne and I reclaim King's Landing."

Jon sighed in understanding. Alysanne had him promise not to share his identity with his family until after they take King's Landing. Daenerys doubts Lady Sansa will keep this secret. The she-wolf would do anything to protect her pack and eliminate competition. Even when those competition is not attacking; the Stark is anticipating an attack.

The King in the North took the Khaleesi's hand to kiss her knuckles, "You have my word."

Daenerys nodded as she leaned up to give him a kiss. The last kiss she will have from him. As his scruffs tickled her skin. Jon kissed her for a moment before pulling back, not taking it any further. There are boundaries. Jon can allow her to be his friend and family, but never can they be lovers. Daenerys sighed, wanting to get this off her chest.

"Out of all the men, you have taken my heart and stabbed it with a dagger," she pulled back, collecting her satchel for the journey.

"Dany," Jon pleaded.

She walked past him, not looking back, "Goodbye, Aenar Targaryen."

She knows she hurt him by addressing him by his true Targaryen name. No one was on the floor, so his secret was safe. But still, between Drogo, Daario, and Jon… Drogo awakened her fire, provided her protection, but he couldn't give her security. Daario, he was talented with the art of fighting and fucking. Yet his narcissism can be too much. But Jon, he was loyal, humble, and skilled. All the qualities she sees in a man that wasn't toxic masculinity. In the end, their blood separates them. Even if Lyanna Stark's blood eases the possibilities, it wasn't enough.

She blames Rhaegar for all this.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way outside to the courtyard. Drogon was waiting outside the Castle's wall for her departure. Daenerys spotted the council waiting for her along with Alysanne. Her sister standing there in her dark clothes, yet she wore her new cloak that signified her union. A black and green woven cloak, trimmed in bear fur along with the scale leather details. Not the full-fledged fur cloak from the wedding. Daenerys put on a brave face walking over to Alysanne. Her older sister gave her a hug.

"Thank you, I know I am asking much," Alysanne said.

"It's nothing, I could use the warm climate. Maybe Dorne will be like Meereen," she assured.

Alysanne chuckled, "Hopefully, so."

"I'll see you in two months, with the Dornish Army." She promised. "And we will take back King's Landing."

"And finally, be home," Alysanne finished.

_Home,_ Daenerys thought. The word was so foreign to her. The only place of stability was her childhood in Braavos from the House with the Red Door. Yet, she was a Targaryen. The Red Keep and Dragonstone is her home now. Alysanne and Drogon are her home.

"And you with child," she teased.

Jorah nearly tensed when hearing this, causing Daenerys to chuckle. Of course, she knows that the newly wedded couple is waiting until after the final war. When there is no stress, or Alysanne is unable to protect herself. The two sisters hug each other one last time. She gave Jorah a quick hug, as she senses the paternal aura from him, even though he is her brother-in-law. Next, she gave Missandei a hug as well. Once done, she stared at Grey Worm, Varys, and Tyrion, noticing the dwarf's swollen nose has finally died down.

"Don't disappoint us," she told the last two.

They merely nodded. Daenerys stared at Alysanne one last time before walking over to Drogon. She climbed onto her dragon, securing her two satchels, and waterskins. She has two routes she can take towards Dorne. It depends on how the winter storms are. She glanced over her shoulders, seeing Alysanne standing there by the gate.

_"I love you, sister!"_ Daenerys shouted in Valyrian.

_"Love you, too!"_ Alysanne shouted back.

Daenerys looked ahead, chanting the ancient words of "_Valahd_." Connecting her spirit with Drogon, before taking off to the sky leaving Winterfell. And hopefully leaving her heartache.

**.o0o.**

_Alysanne's POV_

The following day, the Unsullied and Dothraki had packed up and begun their march down the kingsroad along with several regiments of the Southern armies. I stood in the courtyard wearing my black armor, and new cloak I made to signify the union between House Mormont and House

Targaryen. Jorah stood next to me, as our council stood behind us along with our departure party.

The courtyard was filled with the Lords of the North. No doubt, they are happy for us to be leaving Winterfell and the North in general. Across from us stood House Stark with Jon standing center. Lady Sansa on his right, Bran on his left with Arya standing right behind him. While Ser Brienne, Ser Davos, Maester Walkon, and Samwell Tarly stood behind them as their council.

I faced the pack of wolves with a generous smile, "Thank you for your hospitality and hosting my armies."

"I should be the one thanking you. Without your armies, allies, and dragons, the North would've been no more," Jon said.

"May you prosper and reign truly." I said then turned to Lady Sansa, "Make sure he doesn't burn the Kingdom to the ground."

Lady Sansa suppressed a snort yet, a small smile betrayed her lips, "I'll do my best."

I nodded with a chuckle, then turned Arya, "I wish you luck on your adventures."

Arya nodded.

I then stared at Bran, the atmosphere changing as I stared into the Three-Eyed Raven. A part of me doesn't trust him. He held an emotionless face as his dark eyes stared at me intently.

"The choices you make will decide your fate," Bran said.

My body tensed when he said that. Not sure to take that as an insult or a warning. Jorah stepped forward as he and Jon shook hands then bow to the Ladies of Winterfell.

"Until we meet again, Your Grace," I finished off.

"Until we meet again," Jon replied.

With nothing else to say, Jorah and I went over to our horses. My husband helped me onto a black mare before he got on his brown stallion. Everyone did the same, while Varys and Tyrion got in the wagon house. We made our way to the gates, but I stopped turning around facing House Stark and their loyal subjects. I drew Frozenfang, raising the sword in the air.

"To the King in the North!" I exclaimed, securing Jon's title as their King.

The Lords and soldiers drew their blades as they shouted, "To the King in the North!"

They repeated, "The King in the North!" as my people and I left Winterfell once and for all. Sheathing Frozenfang and focused on the South where the final war will be. It is time I reclaim my heritage and claimant. To fulfill my promises to the Southern Lords and bring justice towards the False Queen Cersei Lannister.

* * *

**Song/Quote is from Castle in the Sky.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Now it is time to get serious. What do you think will happen next?**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	94. Chapter 94: Dragon Fall

**_Sister's Keeper_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

* * *

**Chapter 94: Dragon Fall**

_Jon's POV_

Jon sat down in his room, staring at a journal. Alysanne had given it to him, although she left it on his bed instead in front of the public. When he first opens the page, he was surprised to see what the context was about. As he opens the page:

_To the reader,_

_In this journal contains memories and stories about Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Over the past twenty years, Rhaegar's name has been slander. You may have heard the tales about Rhaegar during the Usurper's Rebellion. This journal contains the life he was before the Rebellion. If you are interested in reading this, please understand that I do not understand his actions that lead to the war. I knew him as my brother, and the memory of a little girl is not a reliable source. But I hope it gives the reader a perspective of the Last Dragon._

_Sincerely,_

_Alysanne Jaehaera Mormont-Targaryen_

Jon didn't know what to say. He barely had time to ask Alysanne what his biological father was like. Of course, he was told when Alysanne was resurrected, she lost her childhood memory. Yet, she added Ser Barristan filled the missing pieces and wrote it done. Now he has a copy of the stories of his Father. Jon

Only heard the rumors and the Baratheon perception of the Targaryens. Of course, he has Bran, who can use the Three-Eyed Raven's ability to stare into the past. Except he can't trust the Raven who possesses his brother/cousin. So, to have this journal is a gift.

A part of him wanted to head south to help his aunts to defeat Cersei. The Lannisters have destroyed both of his families. Eradicating the Targaryens and almost the Starks in the same manner. The two Lannisters he can trust is Ser Jaime and Tyrion. Otherwise, any Lannister is not to be trusted, especially Cersei. How Cersei allowed Joffrey murder Ned Stark which lead to a war that took Robb, Lady Catelyn, Talisa, and the unborn child. Along with giving the Boltons the North, which Ramsey raped Sansa and brutally murder Rickon.

Yet Alysanne declined his offer, even he told Cersei he holds his alliance with the Targaryens she refused. In order to protect him and his identity. The King in the North has to remain in the North. It took Jon a moment realize why Alysanne kept him out of it. He was currently the last male Targaryen. If anything happens to Alysanne and Daenerys, he is there to restore the family name.

He sighed, knowing he locked the door and began to read about the Father he never had.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys had flown along the coastal region of Westeros. When she was flying south from the North, there were strong winds and blizzards. Drogon had no choice but took east along the coast. There was a slight chill, but Daenerys knew Drogon can see better. It was nonstop flying as they made their way down, passing the Vale of Arryn.

She will admit it was nice to be out of the North. At this point, she doesn't want to be in the North ever again. Too much death and heartbreak. Her Dothraki was limited to a third of the population. And…the man she truly falls in love with turns out to be her nephew. At first, she thought nothing about it, being a Targaryen and all. But once she was out of the North, she shuddered slightly in disgust. A part of her still wishes Jon could have been a cousin or not related.

In the end, the only male she truly needed was Drogon.

She patted her son's neck in comfort.

They continued flying south.

Exhaustion was coming over her after three days of flying. Currently, there was no place she could trust after flying the coast instead of the Riverlands. She had opportunities to fly to Riverrun or continued to Highgarden. And with Driftmark and Claw Isle evacuated, there is one place she could go too…Dragonstone. One night in Dragonstone should be safe. Enough for her to sleep, and Drogon can hunt some fish.

Drogon seemed to have the same idea as he headed towards Dragonstone. Daenerys sighed, relaxing a bit, letting her son take the lead. She stared out into the sky, seeing different shapes of the clouds and the waves of the water. Home was so close. Another thought lingers of the bathing chambers. Daenerys would love a proper hot bath.

When all of a sudden, something flew by them. A sharp whistle startled her attention as a mass flew over her. This started Daenerys as she shot up, staring around wondering what that was. It was no bird, that is for sure. Another shot passed them that Daenerys saw a ballista arrow. Drogon growl trying to avoid it, going into the clouds.

She looked around through the breakage of the clouds to see who was attacking them. Another bolt whipped towards her, nearly striking her off. She glanced down to see a fleet of Greyjoy ships. It took a moment as she stared at the ships from a distance to see the details. The Kraken was not gold, no the true Greyjoys are a golden Kraken on a black field. These sails had a silver Kraken with a third red-eye on a black field. These were Euron's ships. On the bow of the ships were steeled octopuses while at the head were platforms. On top were ballistas…no not just any ballista, but Scorpions. The same weapon that shot Drogon during the Battle of the Goldroad.

There were twelve ships. Twelve ships that were loaded with Scorpions. She debated if she should take the chance and have Drogon charge in burning the fleet. At the same time, have Drogon fly higher into the clouds and retreat to the mainland. Before she could make her decision, another bolt was fired, grazing along Drogon's foot. The Dragon gasped in pain. Anger filled her, as she had Drogon swirled around the fleet going from behind.

The four ships in the back were unarmed at the Stern.

_"Dracarys_," Daenerys shouted.

Drogon heaved a deep breath and blew fire on the four ships burning at the sterns and swooped upwards, taking shelter from clouds. Quickly she had Drogon strike down, a wave of bolts making their way towards them. The black dragon maneuver around, trying not to get hit as he blew fire on three ships from the side, leaving five ships remaining.

Daenerys had Drogon swirl around again, ready to eliminate the last of this fleet. To set an example that Cersei will lose the war. But they had to hurry before the Scorpions are reloaded. Drogon took air before diving down. Daenerys eyed the front, seeing the far decorated ship. She assumes Euron was on that ship. If she kills Euron, then his fleet will abandon Cersei and return to the Iron Islands. That is her goal, clouded by adrenaline and rage, aiming Drogon in that general direction. She screamed from the top of her lungs, shouting the sacred word of "_Dracarys!"_

The moment Drogon opens his mouth to fire, five bolts came their way. Just as the flames were about to erupt, a bolt struck Drogon on the shoulder. He yelped while through the connection, Daenerys felt her Dragon's pain in her shoulder. It was different than last time at the Goldroad. The pain was far intense that she felt like she was being stabbed.

Realizing the risk, she had Drogon turn around and retreat. She needs him to make it to Riverrun or Highgarden, or to the nearest Dorne city. Drogon complied, making a sharp turn towards the mainland, instead of flying straight, he zigzag. When another wave of bolts came their way. Daenerys could hear the whistling as she tried to get Drogon to fly higher. Until two bolts struck him.

It happened so fast.

One minute she felt pain from the connection and Drogon crying the next she was falling. She cursed herself for not making a harness for Drogon, but at the same time, the air screamed in her ears, her hair tossed about. As she saw Drogon falling below her, the two have been separated. She didn't know what will kill her, the Greyjoys, or the impact into the water. She closed her eyes and had her last thought.

_I'm sorry, Alys!_

Clenching her fist to feel the lily ring, she braced herself for impact.

As her world turns black.

**.o0o.**

Her body aches. Her back, her head, and her limbs. There was a burning, searing pain that felt like hot needles digging into her skin. Daenerys opened her eyes, finding herself in a cabin. Her coat was gone, leaving her in her leggings and chemise. Panicked, she shot up only to regret her sudden decision. Follow by the sound of rattling. Her sight was blurry until seeing and feeling her hands and feet were shackled together. Her eyes widen.

"I see you're awake," spoke a husky voice.

Daenerys turned her head slightly to see none other than Euron sitting at the table with a bottle of rum. His dark eyes staring at her that she couldn't identify his emotions. However, she can sense the predatory stare of a hungry man.

"And I thought you would die, just like your ancestor Rhaenys," he murmured, taking another sip of rum. "Then again, I didn't shoot your dragon in the eye."

"Where is Drogon?" She demanded. "Where is my dragon."

Euron smirked, "Swimming at the bottom of the ocean. My crew and I managed to put three bolts in him. Probably being eaten by crabs as we speak."

Daenerys gasped, as she lunged after him. Except for the shackles on her feet caused her to trip falling hard onto the floor. The pain surging through her tender limbs. Euron laughed, finishing the bottle before walking over to her. He placed his boot under her shoulder and flipped her over onto her back. She cried out as her back protest.

"Careful lass, you may be immune to fire, but gravity and water are not keen to ya," he murmured, as he sat down next to her. "When I tossed my brother Baelon over the bridge at Pyke, some of his limbs were torn off. Then again, that fucker was older than you. They told me the crabs and other small sea creatures were eating his ears and eyeballs when they found the body."

Daenerys trying to control the pain also her emotions. Her Dragon was dead. Her son, her firstborn and biggest child, was killed at Blackwater Bay. No…Drogon is supposed to outlive her, and several of her sister's descendants. She tried to use the Dragon Magic to sense for Drogon. However, all she felt was her own pain.

"Still, you're a catch, better than a mermaid," Euron murmured, resting a hand on her thigh.

She gasped, pain surging up her thigh where it was swollen.

"Why don't you just get it over with and kill me?" she seethed.

"I would, but you can be a good bargaining chip for Cersei," he murmured. "If I kill you…who can I talk to? Hmm?" he sighed, "I've got a crew full of mutes. It gets lonely at sea."

As he raised a waterskin up and took a sip before shoving it against her lips to take a drink. Daenerys gasped, not expecting it. The alcohol flooding through her lips, burning her mouth and throat. When he pulled the waterskin back, she gagged, spitting some of it out and coughing from the fumes of the strong beverage. Euron merely laughed at her.

"So used to wine," he laughed.

Daenerys scowled; she mainly drank wine when she came of age along with fruit-based brandy. The strongest liquors she ever drank was pepper beer and fermented milk. Hell, she was even forced to drink Shade of the Evening, until arriving at the North trying ale, cider, and mead. But that liquid Euron forced her to drink was practical something an alchemist would use to make wildfire.

"Ship's moonshines," he said. "Burns in taste but nulls everything. Since I don't have the milk of the poppy."

He grabbed her arms in which she cried out before tossing her on the bed. She banged her head on the bedframe, gasping from the sharp pain that stunned her. Euron came over and sat on the edge. Violet eyes widen, thinking Euron would rape her. His behavior unpredictable, not like the Khals or Moro. Euron rested a hand on her thigh before giving a smack on the ass.

"Such a lovely ass," he murmured. "Unfortunately, I am a committed man. Capturing you has gotten me another fuck with the Queen."

Daenerys glared at him, "You won't get away with this. My sister will have your head."

"Oh, I hope so," he murmured. "As I shoot a bolt right through her and her golden dragon."

Euron leaned down, kissing Daenerys. Her eyes widen in shock, pulling away in disgust. Euron merely laughed.

"Get some rest, princess." He cooed. "You won't get many luxuries for long. We will be in King's Landing tomorrow. And Cersei will have a room ready for you in the Dark Cell."

Her violet eyes widen, for she had heard about the Dark Cells. Tyrion mentioned how he was put in a dark cell after trial. How cold, dark, and wet it was. All of your senses being drowned into nothingness. A void of empty.

"Now I got a raven scroll to write to announce my victory," Euron merely smirked as he left the cabin.

Daenerys tried to figure out a way to escape, yet her condition made it impossible.

**.o0o.**

When they arrived at King's Landing. Daenerys was forced back into her coat, and shackle again. She was dragged, onto the deck, before tumbling down the platform onto the private port that leads to the Red Keep. Two of the Ironborn held her arms, latterly dragging her through the Red Keep. She stared at the red wall, seeing the castle her ancestors made while Lannister Banners decorate the battlement.

A willow man Daenerys recognize greeted them at the private gate.

"Captain Euron, I see your voyage has rewarded you," the man in maester's robe said.

"Qyburn, indeed, I have. Cost me seven ships, but I have slain a dragon and caught me a fiery mermaid. A gift for the Queen." Euron praised.

Qyburn nodded, "Let me escort you to her majesty."

Euron grinned as they went up the many steps inside the Keep. Daenerys pay attention to every detail, thinking about her plan of escape. It was a long journey up, going up to the towers that faced the city. They entered the chamber where members of the Queensguard stood in black armor with an intricate pattern on the breastplate that resembled a lion's head. One that stood out was the giant. One she knew as Ser Gregor Clegane. The Mountain. The beast who slaughter a third of her family under Tywin's order.

Cersei stood on the balcony in a velvet dress with golden spaulders. Her hair cut short while a braided crown of silver and gold laid on top of her head. She didn't bother turning around, focusing what was happening in the courtyard. Daenerys could hear the sound of a massive gate opening and the sound of people.

Qyburn and Euron approached Cersei, staring out in the enclosed balcony to watch.

"Our message was well-received, then?" Cersei asked.

"Your people have heard the Usurper is coming," Qyburn answered. "They are grateful for your protection within the walls of the Red Keep."

Cersei stared at Qyburn then back to the people, "You're certain about the dragon?"

Euron stepped beside her, "I saw it sink beneath the waves."

"That must have been glorious," Cersei murmured.

Daenerys tensed and growl, for her child's death is not glorious. It was murder. She seethed, watching as Euron turned Cersei around, and bending on one knee. That was when Daenerys saw it. The dress was bulky, but it still could not disguise the belly to be that of pregnancy. Tyrion never mentioned his sister was pregnant.

"The glory is yours, my queen," he praised, taking her hand.

Cersei cradle Euron's cheek, "When the war is won, the Lion shall rule the land, the Kraken shall rule the sea…and our child shall one day rule them all."

Euron stood up, staring at Qyburn, who nodded in confirmation. Euron chuckled, gently cradling Cersei's face about to kiss her, but stop himself by pressing his hand on her belly. Daenerys watched, trying to do the math, from her experience, the shape of Cersei's swollen belly appeared to be about six to seven months. Varys stated the Ironborn did not join until after the Targaryens arrived…and based on the reports, …the numbers don't seem to add up. This baby cannot be Euron's. But watching their reaction, Euron seems like he doesn't care, only the fact he is the one who is going to raise it.

"She's coming for you," Euron murmured.

"Of course, she is," she said, then turn to the courtyard. "Keep the gates open. If she wants to take the castle, she'll have to murder thousands of innocent people first."

Cersei then made her way inside, standing in front of Daenerys. They were near to even height, yet each of their conditions, the Lioness appeared taller than the Dragon. Daenerys glared at those emerald eyes. Cersei smirked, grabbing Daenerys' face, digging her nails into dragoness cheek. Daenerys winced.

"So much for 'the Mother of Dragons.'" Cersei murmured.

"My sister will come," Daenerys growled.

"I hope she will," Cersei promised. "And I hope she will reveal the madness that lies in your family's blood."

Daenerys scowled; she knows Alysanne is not mad. Not like Viserys or her Father, or the other Targaryens who were declared crazy. However, she knew her sister has a maternal instinct to save her. But looking into Cersei's green eyes, Daenerys knew she will not live.

**.o0o.**

_Back in Dragonstone_

Drogon broke through the water and crawled his way onto the beach. The black Dragon panted, for he barely survived when falling into the water, blacking out on collision as his nose stuck out. He could not tell how long he has been unconscious. Seeing the remains of the Ironborn fleet off in the distance. Until sensing his mother was not on his back.

Drogon turned his head, trying to find Daenerys; only she was not there. His eyes dilated, using the magic that binds him to Daenerys to sense she was still alive, but in pain. He shook his body, trying to get rid of the water before taking off to save her. The moment he flapped his wings, the bolt struck deep into his shoulder. He roared in agony, flinching, causing the other bolts in his back to dig in.

His body collapsed, unable to move. So much strength has been drained from the fall. Unable to move without collapsing. Drogon roar for his brothers. He waited a moment for a response, yet none came. The black Dragon realizing his brothers were too far away. Drogon laid down, resting his head in the sand, as his body gave up to rest.

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	95. Chapter 95: Quietus

_**Sister's Keeper**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones._**

* * *

**Chapter 95: Quietus**

_Alysanne's POV_

It was a long week down the Kingsroad passing the Neck. There weather being different. There was still snow in the Riverlands, but not as thick as the North. A smooth progression as we made camp resting for two days after trudging through the snow. We reached a town-village and took refuge, using the large houses as an infirmary.

Jorah and I took refuge in a small house. I sat by the fire, watching the dragon eggs soak up the heat—the impulse to keep them in the fire to the best to my ability. The flames were captivating, swirls, and flickers of red, orange, blue, and white. How it dances around the wood crackling about.

I sighed, "How long until we reach the Crownlands?"

"About two weeks, the ground will be mud and sludge," Jorah answered. "Once we reach the Crownlands, it will be frost."

I nodded, tossing another log in, "Daenerys should be in Dorne by now. I bet she is enjoying the weather."

"You could get on Viserion and fly south," he offered. "Grey Worm and I can handle the army."

I smiled softly, "Viserion is still recovering. I don't want to pressure him."

Jorah nodded; he came over, wrapping his arms around me. "Shall I keep you warm tonight?"

I chuckled, leaning back into him, "You always keep me warm."

Jorah nodded nuzzling into my neck. It has been a week since we've been intimate. As much as he kept me warm from the ship after the expedition. However, after marching through the snow, and being saddle-sore, all I want to do is curl into a ball and sleep. Jorah understands that. It's not like we are trying to have an heir right now. Still, it would be nice to have some cozy time.

I turned around to face Jorah, wrapping my arms around his neck, bringing him closer for a kiss.

He kissed back as his beard scraped along my cheeks. It started off soft and gentle until it grew passionate. It was late, and I knew the door was locked, so we had our privacy. Jorah picked me up as he set me on the table.

Things were getting serious, our hands working on our tunics when there was a knock on the door. We stopped what we were doing and glance at the door. It better be crucial for someone to be knocking on the door at this time of night. Otherwise, it will be hell to pay. My council is aware none shall be disturbing us unless it was an emergency.

"Who is it?" I said.

"It's Varys and I," Tyrion called out.

I sighed, getting off the table and straighten myself before Jorah went over to open the door, letting the two in. They entered, wiping the snow off their shoulders. At first, I thought this would be the usual update on the soldiers. However, Grey Worm and Missandei were not here. Along with the look on Varys's face.

"What songs do your little birds sing?" I asked.

Varys took a deep breath, "Daenerys did not make it to Dorne. She took the coastal route, reaching Dragonstone when…"

My heart tightens, "When…"

"Euron and twelve of his ships attack Drogon from the sky," Varys reported

"No…" I gasped while my eyes water.

"Princess Daenerys has survived her fall," Varys assured.

I sighed in relief.

"But…" Jorah implied.

"Euron Greyjoy has captured her and taken your sister to King's Landing. Cersei has Daenerys in a black cell." Varys reported.

I nearly stumbled, yet Jorah caught me. It was like someone punched me in the chest. My sister was Cersei's prisoner and placed in a black cell. I've never seen the Black Cells, but I heard the stories. Hell, Tyrion was locked in a Black Cell after his trial. Many good people were tossed in the Black Cell for severe crimes. How it is dark and cold, and rodents scurrying about. It brought back memories of the House of the Undying. The countless corridors and tunnels in the dark.

Jorah set me down, trying to help me calm down.

"Get Grey Worm and Missandei," I managed to say.

Jorah went over to the door where two Unsullied soldiers stood guard and rush to get Grey Worm and Missandei. It would be twenty minutes before Grey Worm and Missandei arrived. I try to keep my composure, while Jorah set the table to get the meeting assembled. This put me in a predicament. Daenerys…although she is my sister, she is also like a daughter to me. I practically raised her when we were kicked out of our home in Braavos. I made a promise to Mother I would protect her. Cersei basically has the upper hand. Do I do what is best for the realm or…

I can't even think about it.

Jorah informed the two of what has transpired. Ideas were being passed around, while I stared at the map of King's Landing. Grey Worm spoke up, catching my attention.

"We will storm the city, my Queen. We will kill your enemies. All of them."

"Your Grace," Varys called out that I stared at him. "I promised you I would look you in the eyes and speak directly if I thought you were making a mistake." As his dark hazel eyes stared at me.

"This is a mistake."

"They have my sister," I managed to say. "They shot Drogon down, and took Daenerys."

"Cersei needs to be destroyed, but if we attack King's Landing with Viserion, the Unsullied and the Dothraki, and the gather armies, tens of thousands of innocent people will die. That is why Cersei is bringing them into the Red Keep." Varys explained. "These are the people you came here to protect. I beg you, Your Grace. Do not destroy the city you came to save. Do not become what you have always struggled to defeat."

I looked down, picking up the lion totem off the map. My thumb caressing the muzzle while my fingers dig into the mane. Varys has a point. As much as I would rather charge into the attack to get my sister, countless lives will be dead. Taking a deep breath, I put the totem down.

"Thank you for reminding me," I breathed.

Varys nodded, relieved that I took his advice.

"It could be a fortnight before our allied armies make it to King's Landing," Tyrion said.

"Three weeks with this weather," Jorah corrected.

Tyrion merely nodded, and continued, "In the meantime, demand Cersei to surrender. Offer her her life in exchange for the throne."

I thought about it. Should I spare the woman who might have killed Drogon, and captured Daenerys. Let alone her breaking the armistice. Humanity needed the Lannister army and the Crownland forces, yet she stood us up. The more fighting participants we had, the greater out advantages of winning. Tyrion realized my hesitation.

"If there's a chance to avoiding the coming slaughter, we should make an effort," Tyrion pleaded.

"Speaking to Cersei will not prevent a slaughter," I finally spoke.

Varys looked down in disappointment. "But will the slaughter be by the people overthrowing her or by our original plan. In the end, it's good the people see that Alysanne Targaryen made every effort to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei refused."

"We continued as planned?" Jorah asked to be sure.

"Yes," I forced out, then stared at Varys. "Send a raven to Prince Doran to have the Dornish marching. The same to Lord Willas, Celtigar, Velaryon, and Redwyne fleet ready."

"Of course," Varys replied. "Anything else?"

"Yes, I will be heading to Dragonstone to scout for any signs of Drogon," I added.

All the men panicked and protested.

"Is that wise?" Missandei asked.

"I need confirmation if the dragons are at risk," I said. "If Drogon is dead…" I took another deep breath. "Then I will have to ask King Jon a favor to send Rhaegal. We will need as much of the dragons we have if we are going against the Ironfleet."

"And I will go with her," Jorah added, wrapping his arm around me.

"I think you should stay with the army," Tyrion implored. "We will send scouts."

"Tyrion," I warned. "Give us four days. If anything were to happen to us, continue the plan as followed. What matters now is getting a tyrant off the Iron Throne."

"And if anything were to happen to you, who will be your heir?" Tyrion asked.

I took a deep breath, "I will write down who the heir will be and give it to Missandei. If Daenerys or I do not survive this war, she will give you the document. Who I select, you must let them decide to accept? If the individual refuses, then you go down the list."

Varys and Tyrion nodded. With nothing else to say, the council was dismissed while I sat down at the table feeling bile stuck in my stomach. Wanting to puke, scream, and cry—the urge to just continue marching south and attack King's Landing.

Jorah came over, resting a hand on my shoulder, "We will get her back."

I took a deep breath, my eyes burning with tears, "Not without a price."

Jorah took a deep breath, kneeling down and taking my hands, "If you have to abdicate to save your sister, I do not blame you. But from my conversations with the other Southern lords, even with you removing yourself, they will still attack King's Landing and put you back on the Iron Throne."

"Wouldn't they want someone with a cock to be ruling?" I muttered.

He snorted, "Maybe so. But they know you fought in the Great War. They know you've slain the Ice Dragon. You may be a woman, yet you are a warrior."

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, "I'm scared."

He wrapped his arms around me, "I know."

"I can't lose her, Jorah," I mumbled. "She is the only family I have left."

I know Jorah is family, being my husband; however, he was not blood or had the years I had with my sister. Yet he understands. He knows the bond Daenerys and I have. We are sisters.

Once I managed to calm myself, I grabbed a parchment to write my will, in proclaiming who my heir will be, if I do not survive this war.

I wrote it in Bastard Valyrian since Varys only understand High Valyrian. I wrote clear instructions to Missandei what to do if Daenerys and my death arrive. Jorah made it clear if I were to die and no heir of our own, that he will not continue as king. So, I wrote that Jon will be king, only by his choice. If he accepts the title, he must tell his secret. If Jon were to refuse, then as promised, the Martells will be the next ruler by Quentyn Martell, since he is my distant cousin. The chain was made in those I believe who can rule Westeros before putting it in an envelope and sealed it in black wax with a dragon seal.

**.o0o.**

Jorah and I arrived at Dragonstone. Throughout the journey, we travel through the clouds and through our ally's territory. Crossing the Riverlands and Vale of Arryn until flying south to reach Dragonstone. Viserion health was getting better, yet restrains himself from using fire. Mainly have the food cook for him until he is capable of doing it himself.

"Keep an eye out," Jorah said. "Any sighting of Euron's ships, and we turn back."

"Agreed," I replied, looking about and rested a hand on Viserion. "Do you sense your brother, Viserion?"

Viserion shriek, a signal call before giving a purr, which caused his body to vibrate. Seismic communication as Visenya calls it. A particular type of harmonic wavelength that individual animals obtain to communicate from long distances. If one listens closely, you can hear a slight humming.

We continue to fly around Dragonstone in search of Drogon.

That black dragon is difficult to kill. His scales are close to Valyrian steel, only another dragon could hurt him hard. Then again, thinking back to the Battle of the Goldroad…when that ballista…the scorpion struck Drogon in the shoulder.

Viserion tensed, I turn to Jorah, "He found something, hold on."

Jorah did so, as Viserion dived towards one of the beaches. A small cove where there is a cave. Viserion landed almost gliding along the sand. Once we were secured, we removed our harness before getting off to evaluate this situation. Viserion continued to hum, pointing towards the cave.

"Drogon is in there," I noted.

"Are you sure?" Jorah asked.

I nodded, "Stay here."

Jorah nodded, standing by Viserion. We made a torch to provide light before going in. I took a deep breath, making my way towards the cave. The smell of sulfur and dragon's breath filled the air. I walked through the tunnel, relying on the torch, as it reflected on the volcanic rock.

Warmth filled the air, indicating that a spring was inside here. When I reached the cavern, I found Drogon curled into a ball. Three bolts lodged into his body. His breathing was irregular, indicating he was still in pain and haven't been adequately fed.

"You poor thing," I sighed, walking over.

Drogon opened his fiery eyes and stared at me, giving a groan. I came closer, resting a hand on his cheek, feeling how cold he was, despite the spring on the other side of the cavern.

"You are strong, just like your namesake," I murmured. "Allow me to remove the bolts."

Drogon merely bobbed his head. I set the torch down and walked over to his shoulder, where the first bolt was. I took hold of the shaft, noting that it was lodged in there deep. Not the same craftsmanship from the previous bolt from the Goldroad. That one had an arrowhead. Drogon growl and groan, grinding his teeth as I muster all my strength to pull it out. It took some tug until it popped out, then forcing me down while Drogon roared in pain. I examined the pointed end, to see how advanced it was, almost to that of a spearhead and grappling hook combined. There were blood and bits of flesh, yet the cold winter weather coagulated the wound from bleeding.

I softly sang a Valyrian song to soothe Drogon to ease his pain as I climbed onto his back to get the last two bolts. Each one I took out hurt, which Drogon cried out, practically knocking me off. The impact of sand and rock stunned me for a moment. On the second, I managed to keep balance. In the end, Drogon was in no condition to fly any time soon, as I feel how tender his muscles were, an indication of internal bruising. The impact from his fall, no doubt.

I carefully got off him and went back to his face.

"Drogon, is Daenerys still alive?" I asked.

The black dragon bobbed his head then gave a whimper.

I sighed in relief, patting his snout, "Get some rest."

The fiery eyes stared at me for a moment, before lulling back to sleep. I took the three bolts, and the torch before leaving the cavern. Jorah and Viserion remained where they were. When I came out, Jorah rushed over, taking hold of the bolts. He put two down and examined them.

"How is Drogon?" He asked.

"He's alive, but in no condition to fly. The bolts got him in the shoulder and back. He will have to rest," I answered.

"How long?" he asked.

"I don't know," I confessed. "He is fortunate it didn't get him in the head, neck, or chest where the ice dragon wounded him."

Jorah nodded.

I turned to Viserion, "Find food for Drogon."

Viserion nodded as he turned around, taking off to the bay. There haven't been any sightings of ships. The perfect opportunity gets the dragons fed and Drogon stable before returning back to the army.

"We should head back to the castle," I suggested.

Jorah nodded as he gathers our gear. I collected what I could carry, as we made our way to Dragonstone.

**.o0o.**

The Castle was cleared from any Ironborn or any Cersei's men spying. Still, we took caution in the Master Apartment. Our plan is to rest for the day, and see how Drogon is before returning to the army. Four days Tyrion and Varys can accept. Otherwise, they will panic.

Jorah was setting up a fire while I air out the room securing the shudders and dusting off the bedding. It was a peaceful quiet, yet, my mind has been swirling about, thinking how Daenerys was doing. How she is kept in a black cell, instead of a noble cell. Making it clear that Cersei doesn't hold the honor conduct.

"Jorah…" I started.

Jorah had finished making the fire and looked up, facing me.

"Have you…what do you know about the Black Cells?" I asked.

He sighed as he came over, before sitting on the bed, and gestured me to sit down next to him, "What do you know about the Blacks Cells?"

"I know it is dark, cold and wet," I answered.

Jorah sighed. My knowledge about the Red Keep is not ideal. Even Visenya hasn't told me much about it. All I knew about the Red Keep, is the basics, and that it was my home for three years. But now…I don't know. Especially hearing Tyrion telling me about the Black Cells, but vaguely from his experience.

"I was never put in a black cell," he said. "But the Red Keep's dungeon is divided into four levels. The first level cells with high narrow windows where common criminals are confined together. The second level has smaller, personal cells without windows for highborn captives. Daenerys is being kept in the third level, known as the Black cells, reserved for the most vile and dangerous criminals. A room with no windows, or any source of light. No human necessities. One would say it was one of the cycles of the Seven Hells."

I took a deep breath, wondering how Daenerys is doing in the void.

"And what is the fourth level?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, "The torture chamber."

I inhaled sharply.

"We will get her back," he promised.

I nodded, yet my stomach turns disagreeing. Like I was dreading the inevitable. If Tyrion can arrange the trade, to save Daenerys. Even it means I stand down and let the council, the Dornish, and the Reachmen take care of it, even if the Unsullied and Dothraki are not involved. However, I'm scared—the same fear and anxiety when Drogo died, fearing if the Kos will attack us.

It's like anytime I have a moment of happiness, something negative comes up. All I want is peace. A part of me wonders if we had just stayed in Meereen. But then Westeros would be no more. Jorah sighed as he helped me to the bathing chamber.

"Come, a bath will help," He suggested.

I only nodded, following his lead.

The rest of the night has been bathing, eating, and going to bed early. I laid in Jorah's arms as he rubbed my back to give comfort. Yet the stress and anxiety were building up. My body ached. Until listening to the sound of the waves lulling myself to sleep.

**.o0o.**

The following day, we checked on Drogon, finding him still recovering. Viserion had got enough massive fish for his brother. We debated if we should stay another night or head back. A part of me wanted to stay, but I knew I was no use to Drogon. All he could do is sleeping, and hiding in the cave is enough security.

So, backing our things, we got on Viserion and returned to mainland towards the army. The entire flight was silent, mentally trying to contact Visenya for her words of guidance. Sadly, she was not responding. I mentally cursed, for I need her guidance right now. My sister is held captive, and I don't know what to do. If Cersei doesn't accept my offer to stay alive…will she offers to trade Daenerys for me to step down or…no, I can't think of the possibility of death. If I was asked to step down to save my sister, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Many scenarios swirling in my head that I felt sick. That I just wanted to scream. Yet all I can do is pray. Hoping the Seven can hear my prayers. They have heard before, and I pray they do so again.

When we returned to the army, Tyrion and Varys were relieved to see us back. They stared at me in question.

"Drogon is alive, but badly injured," I said. "We managed to get him some food for a few days."

Tyrion nodded.

"Any news?" I asked.

"None so far, we sent an envoy, all we can do is wait," Tyrion explained.

I can only nod.

We continued our journey south down the Kingsroad. Missandei staying by my side, trying her best to calm my anxiety. However, when we make camp or taken over an abandoned village, I would feel sick and puke, more like drive heaving. It was not a sickness, since there is no fever. But the council was a concern since they didn't want me ill, so a healer checked on me daily. All I know, my anxiety was getting the best of me—especially the nightmares about Daenerys.

A few days passed in our travel when our envoy returned. He reported that Queen Cersei will have a word with us outside of King's Landing at the Gate of the Gods. I pray we can negotiate on terms. The council made it clear that we should try to negotiate. Only having the Unsullied go down along with the Dothraki. We cannot have Cersei be aware that House Tyrell and House Wensington have alliances with us.

I just pray we can get Daenerys back.

**.o0o.**

_Daenerys's POV_

Daenerys sat in the dark. All around her was dark, cold, and wet. She sat in a corner, her fingers touching the hay and straw under her. The air smelled foul, not of mold, but death and feces. If not, rodents passing, some nipping her limbs now and then. But she will not let the Black Cells destroy her spirit. She knows Alysanne is marching down to get her. One thing you don't want to mess with is separating this family.

Still, in the darkness, she contemplated about her life. At this point, it was clear Cersei will not yield or surrender. Even if Tyrion makes an offer that anyone could not refuse. However, it was clear, even a city of gold Cersei will decline and retaliate. It came to a point Daenerys has accepted her fate. She will not come out in one piece or alive.

At first, after a few days of grasping the concept, she cried. Muffling her wails into her ragged dress that she was forced to wear. Once the tears dried up, she contemplated her fate. If she was going to die, she will become a martyr and motivate Alysanne. This city was done for. Plagued by the twenty-something years of Baratheon/Lannister corruption. If it was her, she would burn it all and start over—a city of ashes with Cersei on top of a pile of the court's corpses.

As time went on, the anger subsides, knowing violence will never be the answer. She has accepted death. Unless the Small Council figures out a compromised, she was a dead woman. Only time will tell. In the end, she did what she barely did, and that was praying and contemplate what her life has been. Time vanished, and all the memories she can remember of her life.

Remembering Ser Willem Darry with the house of the Red Door and lemon trees, the trials, and travel throughout the free cities, the life on the run. Pentos, her marriage to Drogo, and the life with the Dothraki. Her friends, Irri and Jhiqui, her betrayal from Doreah. The pregnancy with Rhaego.

The tears formed, thinking about her son. If she were to die, she hopes to be reunited with her son. It brought back memories in the House of the Undying. The illusions the warlocks made of Drogo and Rhaego together in the hut. She wanted to be reunited with her family, out of the three men in her life, Drogo, Daario, and Jon. Drogo made her happy once they were able to communicate. He gave her everything that he can. Despite the Dothraki culture, he values her, never shared her, and listen to her words putting things into consideration. Drogo, she truly loved, learned to love, and grown to love.

As much as she loved Alysanne and would love to see her nieces and nephews, …she will hold her back. It was clear Alysanne has always put Daenerys first. Protecting her from Viserys and assassins. Practically starved so she could survive. All the scars Alysanne had on her body, the majority she knew were from protecting her.

A sob escaped, for she truly didn't want to die.

However, she can feel death.

She remembers that horrid nightmare in Meereen when Alysanne died. How the Stranger entered the room, hovering over, and sang a hymn before placing the kiss of death on her sister's lips ending the life. The golden eyes turned red, staring at her. The hymn echoing in her head to a point, she whispered the lyrics to herself.

"Wither and decay…end this destiny…break these earthly chains, and set the spirit free." She mumbled.

She felt a presence as if the Stranger was in the room. The deity slithered through the shadows before kneeling before her. She could barely make out its shape yet felt frail hands taking hold of her own, giving a tender squeeze. Follow by the dim lighting of light, comparing them to fireflies. The Stranger was here, despite not being devoted like her sister, she has been connected to the God of Death. Sensing the entity since Viserys death. Now the Stranger was here, comforting her of her demise.

Suddenly, the door opened as the Unchained Maester and the Hand of the Queen, known as Qyburn, entered holding a torch with a few of the Queensguard. At least not the Mountain. She can't stand being in the presence of the man who slaughters Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon…she couldn't.

"Princess Daenerys," Qyburn greeted.

"It's Khaleesi," she corrected, her voice faint.

Qyburn nodded, "Apologies, Khaleesi, I bring you news."

She lifted her head to stare at him, wondering what the willow man brings.

"Tomorrow, at the Gate of the Gods, there shall be a gathering to negotiate terms of surrender," he explained. "Allow me to escort you to your new chambers."

Daenerys was confused, wondering why she was being moved. The two Queensguard stepped forward, collecting her arms and helped her up. She was still weak since her meals were that of stale bread. Yet the two knights carried her through the long corridors and up the steps to the first level of the dungeon. Qyburn opened the door as the men took her inside and set her on the wooden bed with a hay mattress. There were narrow windows, yet light from the sun was shining through. Her eyes cringed, adjusting to the sudden lighting.

"I brought some blankets, and a bucket of warm water should you need to refresh yourself," Qyburn said. "A hot meal should be arriving soon."

"Why are you helping me?" Daenerys asked.

Qyburn sighed, "To ensure you have one night of comfort."

Daenerys inhale sharply, this could be her last night alive. She also assumed if she were to die, and the siege happens, then Qyburn's attempt to bring comfort could spare him. She doubts Alysanne will give pardon to Qyburn if she were to die.

The knights and Qyburn left, giving her privacy. Once alone, Daenerys walked over to the narrow window to stare out to see King's Landing. Seeing the Kingdom, she could have ruled at her sister's side. The entire time she sat there watching the rises and sets. Ignoring Qyburn, who brought the food to her, and other things. As the men set a bowl of stew with bread. When he was gone, Daenerys ate while watching the sunset.

She doubts she could sleep. All she wanted to do is stay awake, savoring every ounce of being alive before her eternal sleep. Watching the sun go down, and the moon rises. Counting the stars and watching the moon disappear being chased by the sun.

As expected, Qyburn returns with a bucket of hot water, a hairbrush, and her clothes. While a knight set a tray of porridge. They did not say a word as they left. Knowing this was her day, Daenerys did the best she could to make herself presentable. Brushing the weeks of knots, and putting on her clothes and ring. She was thankful for the willow man let her have her sibling ring.

Just as she finished, the door opened.

Qyburn entered, "It is time."

Daenerys sighed, not saying a word. The Queensguard came in, shackling her hands. She did not fight, knowing there is no use. By the time she reached the courtyard, she had saw Cersei comes out wearing her red velvet dress with Ser Gregor and Euron by her side. The lioness stared at her with a vindictive stare. One that promised pain. Daenerys only glared back at her. Cersei merely smirked as she got in the palanquin while Euron got on a horse. Ser Gregor came over to her, taking hold of the chains that were attached to her shackles. That was when she realized she will be dragged through the streets towards the Gate of the Gods.

The party marched through the courtyard, where the people who became refugees watched. The people staring at her, whispering and murmuring. Some chanting insults about the Targaryens. Blaming her for the misfortunes during her father's reign.

It was a long journey, the streets crowded by the people screaming at her. The Queensguard surrounding her, preventing anyone's attempt to touch her, or anything else. Daenerys only kept her head up high, ensuring that a Targaryen stands strong. Not to appear weak. Not letting the pain and humiliation tear her down. The ache in her feet, from the long walk, seeing the worse in humanity.

It will be around noon did they arrive at the Gate of the Gods. The gate starts the route to the Kingsroad. On top of the city's walls battlement were ballistas, the Scorpions aimed at the army. There stood four thousand Unsullied stood in formation in front of one of the gates of King's Landing. The Targaryen banners being held up high, while three elephants stood at the ready. Viserion was a half-mile away, keeping a distance as part of the terms for negotiation.

Center of the group Daenerys could make out Alysanne wearing armor, with Grey Worm and Jorah on each side of her. Along with Tyrion, Varys, and Missandei. Daenerys felt some joy in seeing her sister. When all of a sudden, the Dothraki charged in and scurry behind of a thousand men, as an intimidation tactic.

Daenerys saw Cersei sneered at the sight of this.

The Mother of Dragons couldn't help but smirk.

**.o0o.**

_Gate of the Gods_

"Is this going to work," Alysanne asked Tyrion.

"Have faith," Tyrion assured. "I will get your sister back. I know my sister."

Alysanne took a deep breath and stared at Jorah, who only nodded. Everyone was in armor; incase a battle will happen or archers firing. Tension has risen the day they reached the border of King's Landing. They have been here since the early hours of dawn, waiting on negotiation and terms. Alysanne let Tyrion know, if she has to step down in order to save Daenerys, she will. It was something Tyrion hopes he doesn't have to.

Tyrion convinced to spare Cersei if his sister were to step down, have her exiled from Westeros with funding to live in either Braavos or Pentos. To start a new life as a rich woman. Alysanne would rather have Cersei face justice for the crimes she has committed over the past five years but conceded in putting exile on the table.

Grey Worm orders the Unsullied into attention.

The gates opened enough to let Qyburn out. Tyrion took that as a sign to start the negotiation. Taking a deep breath, Tyrion walked the distance to the gate to meet the unchained Maester. He glanced up, staring at his sister, examining Daenerys's condition. Yet the height of the wall made it hard to make out. The two Hands of the Queen's met in the middle.

"My lord," Qyburn greeted with a bow.

"Queen Alysanne's demands Cersei's unconditional surrender and the immediate release of

Princess Daenerys, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea," Tyrion said, going straight to the point.

Qyburn stared down at Tyrion, "Queen Cersei demands Alysanne's unconditional surrender. If she refuses, Princess Daenerys will die here and now."

Tyrion's poker face dropped, "Qyburn…you're a rational man."

"Or so I flatter myself, my lord," Qyburn replied.

"We have a chance here, perhaps our last chance, to avoid the carnage," Tyrion warned.

"Yes," Qyburn agreed.

"Help me. I don't want to see this city burn," Tyrion calmly pleaded. "I don't want to hear the screams of children burning alive."

Qyburn sighed, "No, it is not a pleasant sound."

"I—I don't want to hear it. Help me save this city," Tyrion said, and silently offered the Unchained Maester his security.

"My lord, I am only the mouthpiece for our queen," Qyburn proclaimed.

"Your queen," Tyrion corrected.

"Cersei is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You are her subject."

"Her reign is over. You understand this. Help her understand it."

"We understand nothing of the sort. Your Queen's dragons are vulnerable. Your armies are battle-weary and depleted, while ours have been reinforced with the Golden Company."

Tyrion had enough and walked past Qyburn making his way over to the gate. He was about twenty feet away from the gate. The archers getting into position, drawing their bow. Cersei raised her hand, having the power to give the order. She stared down at her brother, having the opportunity to kill the vile beast that took her mother and ruined her life. A moment passed as she stared at her youngest brother. The brother she despised. Here was her opportunity.

However, Jaime's words on having mercy with Tyrion had her lower her arm in disgust. The archers lower their bow going back to attention.

Tyrion took a deep breath as he spoke loudly, so Cersei could hear, "I know you don't care about your people. Why should you? They hate you and you hate them. But you're not a monster. I know this. I know this because I've seen it. You've always loved your children—more than yourself, more than Jaime…more than anything. I beg you. If not for yourself, then for your child. Your reign is over, but that doesn't mean your life has to end. It doesn't mean your baby has to die."

Cersei's eyes water as she exhales sharply. Does she take the offer and abdicate for the sake of her unborn child? Disregard more than half of her life, she wasted as her father's pawn to put a Lannister on the Iron Throne. She thought about her firstborn son, a boy with dark hair who could not survive infancy. And then came Joffrey, who was taken away by poison at his own wedding. Myrcella, taken by poison as collateral damage between the Lannisters and Martells. And finally, Tommen, sweet Tommen, a boy manipulated by everyone and committed suicide to escape the madness. All the pain and suffering she endured for Tywin's Legacy.

Her green eyes focused on Alysanne. Though off in the distance, she can barely make out the tension the woman was going through. The fear of losing someone she loved, despite the protection of armor she wore.

_The Last Targaryen_, Cersei thought.

After a moment, contemplating her decision, Cersei stepped over to Daenerys grasping her arm tightly as she murmured, "If you have any last words, now is the time."

Daenerys bowed her head as the tears fell. So, this was it then. She was going to die. There wasn't enough time for the Unsullied and Viserion to reach over and get her. After what she has seen in King's Landing, the pollution, corruption, and poison…it should not remain. No longer were they in King's Landing where her ancestor Aegon the Conqueror stood. The Kingdom that secured the Targaryen dynasty. No, it is something that needed to be erased from the world. A plague that needed to be eradicated.

Daenerys raised her head and stared at Alysanne. Her eyes filled with venom, hoping these words will haunt her sister to do the right thing. Words that will be repeated once more.

"Burn them all!" Daenerys exclaimed from the top of her lungs.

Alysanne's eyes widen when hearing those words. The same exact words their father used. The Dragon Queen knew Daenerys was telling her this was the end, and to destroy this city. All who knew of the Mad King's demise were baffled to hear those words.

Cersei smirked as she stepped away and nodded to Ser Gregor to step forward. The Mountain

drew his sword as he approached the Mother of Dragons. Daenerys kept her eyes forward, locked to her sister. Alysanne noticing this, lunged forward, except Jorah wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, restraining her. He tried to turn her to look away, yet Alysanne tried to fight him off, seeing the sword being raised.

"Sōvēs," Daenerys whispered.

The Mountain raised his sword and decapitated Daenerys. Her head sliced off, falling first along with her body crashing onto the soil ground in front of the gate. Blood seeping out, coating the earth in dragon's blood. Tyrion's face cringed as he turned around to see Alysanne fall to her knees in utter horror. The color in her cheeks vanished, while those indigo eyes dull and darken as they screamed from the top of her lungs. A scream one can almost compare to a dragon, a shriek of a mother losing a child.

Then it became silent.

Utter silence.

Not even Viserion made a sound.

Suddenly Alysanne head shot up as she stood taking a few paces forward.

"Cersei Lannister, mark my words. When the day comes, I willcast you down and take all that you hold dear!"

Cersei inhales sharply for those were the words of Maggy the Frog gave her.

With nothing else to say, Alysanne turned around and walked through her army. The men watching her leave in fearing what just happened. Fearing that Cersei Lannister had woken the dragon.

* * *

**Uh Oh...**

**What will happen next?**

**Hymn is from the Tangle Series. **

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	96. Chapter 96: I See Fire

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Languages:**_

Common Tongue

**Dothraki**

* * *

**Chapter 96: I See Fire**

_Jon's POV_

Jon walked around Winterfell, seeing the progress. He had to admit without the Unsullieds' help in the cleanup and the reconstruction, they be two months behind. Now all that remains is the basic stuff. The North seemed at peace, as many of the lesser houses have returned to their lands and property. Including Lady Lyanna Mormont, who left last, returning to bear island.

Unfortunately, Lady Mormont isn't the only one who left. Arya left two weeks ago with Sandor. She wanted to be part of the war to take down Cersei. Jon and Sansa tried hard to convince Arya that she needed to let go of her list. Yet Arya said she will not rest until she is sure everyone on her list is dead. Jon new many of those on Arya's list died by other people. The only people she managed to kill was Walder Frey and his sons, Ser Meryn Trant, Polliver, and Rorge. She lost an opportunity to kill Joffrey and Tywin Lannister. Let alone forgiving Ser Beric, Thoros of Myr, Melisandre, and Sandor Clegane. Meanwhile, Illyn Payne recently passed away from age. There are only two people left, Cersei and The Mountain.

There was no stopping Arya. If he could, he would have grabbed her, but Jon knew Arya can just flip him over on his back. Or worse, kill him. She was no longer the stubborn little girl he remembered years ago. She was now a woman who can kill. And from his experience, women who know how to use a weapon should not be messed with.

Anyway, Jon continued to walk around, joining Sansa and Ser Brienne. Seeing how the rations are going and grain. Things were peaceful. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Until Maester Walkon came with a raven scroll.

"What is it, Maester Walkon?" Jon asked.

"A raven from Lord Tyrion," Maester Walkon answered, a bit hesitant.

Jon took hold of the raven scroll and read it. At first, he thought it was an update since Tyrion would let him know where they were at. Yet he recalls he hasn't received a letter in two weeks. At first, Jon assumed it due to the winter storms. However, when he read the letter, his heart dropped.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

Jon took a deep breath, "Daenerys headed to Dorne only to be capture by Euron and Drogon badly injured. Queen Alysanne went to make a trade, Cersei had Daenerys executed."

This surprised Sansa and Ser Brienne.

"Tyrion is asking me to come south," Jon said.

"For what?" Sansa asked.

"Rhaegal, they need all the dragons they can get," Jon explained.

"Anything else?" Sansa asked.

"Queen Alysanne request only the dragons," Jon answered.

"No soldiers or resources?" Sansa asked to be sure.

"She is a woman of her word," Jon replied, taking a deep breath.

All the guilt building up for many things. He felt guilty for not going south with Alysanne. If he was there, maybe he could have helped in getting Daenerys back. Also, he felt guilty about how things ended with Daenerys. He truly cared about her. It was just they were related. Daenerys was his aunt, and growing up in the North, both old religion and new, incest is wrong. Especially hearing the results of Joffrey's parentage. Still, the fact they left on bad terms and will never have a chance to reconcile.

"I need to go," Jon said.

"No, just send Rhaegal," Sansa countered.

"Rhaegal needs a rider," he explained.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Jon knew he can't tell Sansa about his parentage just yet. Alysanne made him promise to wait until they claim King's Landing. So, he lied, he knows Sansa and Arya will hold it against him for it. But he is a man of his word.

"Only those with Valyrian blood can ride a dragon," Jon started. "Queen Alysanne believes my mother might have been of Valyrian descent. That is how I can control Rhaegal."

Sansa paused, taking in his lie. Although, it was his father was of Valyrian descendant. His father being Rhaegar Targaryen.

Sansa took a deep breath, "Are you sure?"

"I need to help them," he assured.

Sansa sighed, "All right. Just…just don't do anything reckless. And at least take Ser Davos with you."

Jon gave a small smile, appreciating it, "I'll leave Ghost here."

Sansa nodded, appreciating it. Jon can't leave Sansa alone with Bran, not until he got the confirmation of whose side the Three-Eyed Raven is on. From what Jon got from the Night King, this entity that possesses his brother is not on the side for humanity. As much as Ser Brienne is by Sansa, he wants to make sure there are those with her to ensure security. Even when they are cousins, Jon will always see Sansa as his sister.

Suddenly Ser Jaime came over with them with caution. His green eyes staring at the raven scroll.

"What happened?" Ser Jaime asked.

They look at each other for a moment until Brienne answered, "Euron Greyjoy ambushed Princess Daenerys. One of the dragons was severely injured, yet managed to destroy several ships, and the princess captured. Queen Alysanne tried to make a truce, and Cersei executed Princess Daenerys."

Ser Jaime's eyes widen.

"I always wanted to be there when they execute your sister," Sansa said. "Seems like I won't get the chance."

She then walked away, leaving the three. Jon stared at Ser Jaime. He doesn't know the full details, yet the benevolence Alysanne may have a plan for Cersei is definitely gone. Jon knows the feeling when Ramsey Bolton toyed with Rickon's life. How the madman turned his brother into prey and run for his life on the battlefield. Jon was only several feet away from Rickon, only to watch his kid-brother be shot through the back by an arrow. The anger and need for vengeance stirred inside him throughout the battle until running toward Winterfell, where he encountered Ramsey. All the emotions raptured as he punched Ramsey to near death until he saw Sansa. Sansa reminded him what Ramsey had done to her, and thought it was best she gets her revenge.

Almost five years, he thought his family was eradicated by the Lannisters and Bolton's. Only to discover his siblings/cousins survived and find out he had two aunts. Now Jon wonder's how Alysanne is taking things now, witnessing her sister be murder before her very eyes. The only sibling you had left taken from you. Jon may not know much of his Targaryen heritage, but he knew he needed to help his paternal family. It is at least he can do.

Jon excused himself as he went to find Ser Davos. He wanted to depart as soon as possible, along with telling the castle butcher to get a few cattle to Rhaegal. The dragon will need as much food he can to fly to Dragonstone.

Once he had that sorted, he went to his room and locked the door. He sat down in a chair by the bowed his head covering his face. He had to act strong in front of his people, only behind closed doors can he express himself—the guilt in how he treated Daenerys. In Jon did in fact, loved her, or at least started to fall in love with her. Except he was raised differently than her when it comes to incest. The practice was taboo, practically forbidden. If only they were not related or could have been cousins. It seems like no matter how much he can love someone, they ended up taken away.

**.o0o.**

The following day Ser Davos and Jon were leaving Winterfell. Rhaegal was at the gate prepared for departure. Through the bond, he could sense the dragon's joy to leave the cold. As he was reaching the gate. Jon had already said his goodbyes to Sansa and Bran, telling them not to get in trouble.

"You're gonna ride the dragon south?" Tormund called out, catching up.

"He's faster than a horse," Jon replied, walking over.

Tormund scoffed, "You weigh as much as two fleas fucking."

Jon couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm taking the Free Folk home," Tormund announced. "We've had enough of the south. The women down here don't like me."

"This is the North, you know," Jon reminded. "And the Free Folk are welcome to stay."

"It isn't home. We need room to wander. I'll take them back through Castle Black as soon as the winter storms pass. Back where we belong." Tormund explained.

"I wish I was going with you," Jon absent-mindedly said, then sighed, realizing the words slipped from his mouth. He looked at is wildling friend. "This is farewell, then."

"You never know," Tormund said, giving the young King a hug and robust pat on the back. "You've got the North in you. The real North."

Jon nodded as Tormund pulled away and left.

He then spotted Sam and Gilly walking over. With everything that has happened, he barely got a chance to see his best friend. Ever since the Night's Watch is no more, Jon has welcome Sam to be part of his council. Appointing Sam as the Royal Advisor. Sam appreciated it, as does Gilly.

Gilly came over, offering Jon a hug. Jon accepted, in the midst of the hug, he felt something pressed against his torso. His dark eyes widen as he pulled away, staring at Gilly and then her swollen belly, estimating she was nearing the third trimester. Gilly merely smiled as Sam gave a confirmed grin.

"Yes, well, the nights have been getting longer, and there wasn't much to do in Oldtown," Sam explained. "There's only so many books a person can read, so we—"

"I'm sure he knows how it happens, Sam." Gilly interrupted his nervous rant.

Sam nodded while Jon chuckled.

"When I get back. I'll make sure to legitimize your child," Jon promised.

Sam gave an appreciated smile.

"If it's a boy, we want to name him Jon," Gilly said.

Jon's smile dropped, "I hope it's a girl."

With nothing else to say, Jon hugged Sam. All the years they went through, and now they must depart for the third time.

"You're the best friend I ever had," Sam said.

Jon nodded, "You too, Sam."

With nothing else to say, he walked towards the gate until hearing Ghost whimpered. Jon walked over to his furry friend Ghost came closer, nudging Jon, that the human started rubbing his neck, being careful of the torn ear.

"I have to go," Jon murmured. "I need you to stay here and watch over Sansa for me. Can you do that?"

Ghost nodded. Jon gave a small smile appreciating his wolf, giving him one more scratch until heading over to the gate. Where Ser Davos was securing his harness. It was one thing he was glad of making since Alysanne showed him the importance of the harness. After the Great War, and being tossed off, it was something he did not want to experience again. A stable boy handed him his harness as he put it on.

"I don't think I'm gonna like flying," Ser Davos muttered.

"You'll get used to it," Jon assured. "Just don't look down."

Ser Davos grumbled as he double checks his harness.

As the two men secured their weapons and supplies, Ser Jaime came over with his things.

"Do you have room for one more?" Ser Jaime asked.

The two men were shocked to see him here.

"Is it wise for you to go south?" Ser Davos asked. "The Queen might not want to see you."

"I might be of assistance," Ser Jaime offered.

Jon stared at the knight, "You know your sister is most likely to be executed."

"All I can do is try," Ser Jaime explained. "Petition for my sister to be exiled."

"Is there something we should know about?" Ser Davos asked.

Ser Jaime took a deep breath, "My sister is pregnant, and I don't want harm to come to the child."

Jon took a deep breath, not wanting to think who the father is. However, Ser Jaime knows of King's Landing and can be a good asset. If Alysanne asked him to be responsible for the Kingslayer's action, then Jon will take accountability. So, the King in the North nodded, asking for another harness. Ser Jaime sighed in relief.

Once they were all settled, they climbed on top of Rhaegal. Jon being in the front, taking possession of the saddle and secured the latch on his harness. The men tied the line, ensuring their safety. When they were ready, Jon closed his eyes and whispered the Valyrian words, syncing his spirit to Rhaegal.

Rhaegal gave a roar before he started to sprint down the field until taking off to the sky.

**.o0o.**

_Dragonstone_

Jorah entered the Chamber of the Painted Table, where Alysanne mainly resigned, staring out to the coast, watching a storm approaching. Missandei was standing beside her. On the table was a tray of food, yet from what he could see, barely a quarter of it has been eaten, and Jorah assumed it was from Missandei. He walked in further, noticing the fire was almost out. Thinking about how cold it was, he stepped over there, starting another fire to ensure the women are warm.

Missandei came over when hearing him enter.

"How is she?" Jorah asked.

"She will not eat," Missandei answered quietly. "She even refuses to sleep. I managed to get her to drink water."

Jorah sighed, knowing that is a start. It has been over a week since the tragic event. At first, once out of sight of King's Landing and away from the soldiers, Alysanne had broken down in the forest. She cried nonstop; her wails almost compared to that of a banshee. Jorah came by her side and held her, doing his best to comfort her. No one should ever see their sister murdered like that. Not even Alysanne. Hours she cried, nearly making herself sick, that he had to remove her armor and held her hair. It would have been night time when she cried herself to sleep.

Grey Worm and Missandei soon arrived with a wagon, as they took her to a ship to sail back to Dragonstone. Upon the docks, another cart appeared from a messenger. Inside the cart was Daenerys's remains. Tyrion explained that Qyburn had the body delivered out of good faith. Although, Jorah thinks the Unchained Maester was trying to gain favor if Cersei should fall. Throughout the sailing, Alysanne remained unconscious, the stress and exhaustion finally caught up to her.

Until the nightmare came. They had docked at Dragonstone bay; did she wake up screaming from a nightmare. Jorah tried everything to calm her until she asked where Daenerys is. Denial is one of the stages of grief, so it hurt when he had to tell Alysanne that Daenerys was indeed dead. It felt like he literally stabbed her in the heart, seeing those indigo eyes become dull and lifeless. She was compliant when getting to shore and back to the Castle. However, the moment she entered the royal apartment, did she mentally shut down.

Missandei and Jorah tried hard to get Alysanne to eat and sleep. Even Varys tried to help by slipping some herbs into the stews and soup that could knock a person out, without complications. Yet Alysanne would not eat, nor did she drink any wines, ciders, or teas. Until recently, she sipped on water now and then.

Things have changed the past five days as Alysanne was mentally gone. While Missandei was aiding to the Queen, Jorah had to be in charge. They have about a month left before the siege. Raven scrolls came from Highgarden and the Watergardens of soldiers marching their way. Meanwhile, Jorah tried hard to convince the Dothraki not to kill themselves. Daenerys had made all her men bloodriders, and by bloodrider customs, they will have to kill themselves. Yet Jorah managed to convince them that they can't join their Khaleesi until she is put to rest and avenged. Kovarro helped in delaying the inevitable. And Jorah hopes that they can convince the Dothraki after the war to return to Essos and start over.

Five days.

Five terrible days.

Jorah got up and walked over to the window, standing by his wife's side. Alysanne was in a black Valyrian gown. Her hair down and tangled by the wind. Those five days have made her skin pale, paler than ever before. Bruising under her eyes from the lack of sleep. The worse was how gaunt she became to be. Almost thin when traveling through the Red Waste, that he could see her collar bone. The fire in her eyes has become a dim ember.

He sat down, "You need to eat."

She did not break her attention from the storm.

"Alysanne, I beg you, don't starve yourself," he pleaded and took her hand. "You need to eat and sleep."

Silence.

Jorah gestured Missandei to bring the bread over. The Naathi complied, as she brought the small loaf over. He took hold of it, and adjusted Alysanne's face to watch him. He took a bite to prove it was not poison, before breaking a small piece and bringing it up to her lips. She did not open her lips.

"Please, eat this for me," he begged.

Her eyes began to water as she slowly opens her lips. Jorah sighed in relief, as he helped her eat the bread. They were small nibbles, and on occasions, she would cough from the dryness until Missandei brought the water over. It took some time; through tears, they managed to get her to eat the roll. Once it was gone, Jorah sighed in relief, hugging his wife.

Grief is a powerful emotion.

He knew of it when his mother died and Gillian his first wife passed away. Along with hearing the news of his father, Jeor's death. However, he will not understand the pain Alysanne was going through in losing her only blood family. He knew Daenerys was more than just a sister to Alysanne. The Khaleesi was a daughter as well despite the four-year age difference. Alysanne spent the majority of her life protecting Daenerys until now.

A small sobbed escaped her lips as she clings to her husband. The numbness finally breaking, but Jorah knew this was the start.

"Get some rest," he murmured.

"I can't," she whispered.

He looked at her with concern while she refused to return the gaze.

"I can't relive that moment," she mumbled.

Jorah sighed as he pecked the top of her head.

After a while, he left the Chamber of the Painted Table, entering the throne room where Varys and Tyrion were. They stood there, waiting on any updates. Jorah knew Tyrion has been cautious, not that he could blame him. The half-man promised to get Daenerys back, as if he knows how to outwit his sister. Yet Tyrion gambles and wins because he had nothing to lose. Alysanne put so much faith in Tyrion's hand. And he had lost. Even when Alysanne said she will resign from the war; Tyrion didn't used that special card. Now Tyrion fears he will lose his position as Hand of the Queen, or worse his life.

"Anything?" Tyrion asked.

"She managed to eat some bread," Jorah answered.

The two sighed in relief.

"Any news?" Jorah asked.

"The men wanted to know about what to do with the body?" Varys replied. "It is about to decay."

"A storm is passing. Hopefully, tomorrow we can do a funeral pyre," Jorah decided.

"She could be buried right next to her mother," Tyrion said.

"No," Alysanne voice broke out.

The men turned around to see Alysanne standing at the door with a tear-stained face. Tyrion and Varys gave a bow in greeting.

"Once the storm passes, we will have a funeral pyre," she managed to say.

"Your Grace, she's immune to fire, just like you," Tyrion tried to reason.

Alysanne shook her head, "How can fire burn itself when the embers are gone?"

With nothing else to say, she went back to the Chamber of the Painted Table. The Three stood there, taking her words in and accepted it. For once, they were relieved to know she was coming back to her senses. However, Tyrion and Varys were still concern about her mentality. Fearing that Alysanne will be another Queen Helaena Targaryen, the wife of Aegon the Second, whose depression was comparable to madness after witnessing her son's death. The late queen couldn't take it anymore and committed suicide. Trauma can do many things, and Tyrion feared for his sister while Varys caution how the siege will go. Will Alysanne take a more violent approach or follow the plan.

Jorah knew he needed to get Alysanne stable again before the siege.

.**o0o**.

_Alysanne's POV_

She looked beautiful, even in death.

I stood next to Daenerys's body. The Silent Sisters did the best they could in restoring Daenerys' vessel. The damage from the fall was gone, while her head was sewn back to her body. The outfit I gave covered the stitching. Missandei stood next to me, holding a hairbrush. She was waiting for me to start the next step. When I entered the room, I couldn't move.

I know she is dead for I saw it. However, a part of me is screaming for my sweet sister to wake up. In the end, I will never see those violet eyes again. Never hear her voice. See the smile she held for me. Practically everything about her was gone, except for a vessel. The fire inside her extinguished.

I took a deep breath, as I nodded, brushing Daenerys's hair in many braids and manipulating them for her funeral. The air had a mixture of death and lavender. Yet Missandei did not protest, only breathed through her mouth to avoid the scent. I did not care; it was just a reminder that my sister was dead. Once her hair was settled, we placed the jewelry. Items I want her to have either it is the Night Lands or the Seven Heavens. Either way, she will have treasures to remember who she was.

All I felt was numbness. It was like I was awake, yet at the same time, nothing seemed to matter. As if all of this is just an empty realm. Everyone appeared like a ghost, not really there. As much as Jorah and Missandei tried hard to get me back on my feet, everything was nothing. The warmth of their touches was cold. The food practically is dusts in my mouth, while water is the only thing manageable to consume. I was a living ghost losing virtually my purpose. I made a promise to bring Daenerys home…except I've failed her.

"Alysanne, if I may…" Missandei started.

I lifted my head, staring at her to speak.

"In my culture, we have a saying…that death is only the beginning," she explained. "In Naarth, we believe the butterflies are our ancestors, reborn to protect us from the pirates. I believe Daenerys will be reborn again to guide you."

I sighed looking down, cradling my sister's cheek, "She will not be reborn. She either be in the Night Lands riding alongside Drogo and Rhaego, or in one of the Seven Heavens. Death is final. A passage to our eternal life."

Missandei only nodded, despite our religious beliefs, we still believe there's more in the afterlife than oblivion. When we were finished, I kissed Daenerys on the lips. Whispering the Seven rights to her. Praying to the Stranger to take her spirit somewhere she can be happy. To be reunited with her son, Drogo, and our family. My eyes began to water, yet I forced the sobs down, for I need to be strong for the funeral.

When the time came, several of the Dothraki entered to collect the body. Leading them was Kovarro. He came over and nodded in approval. I stepped aside as I watched them put her on a stretcher and carried out, heading towards the funeral pyre that waited in the field. Missandei and I followed.

Out in the field, there was a massive funeral pyre. Far more substantial than any pyre created for a leader. The three rings set, with a horse underneath and all the treasures. The Dothraki had circled around, as did the Unsullied. Next to the pyre were Viserion and Drogon. The Black Dragon had been silent since the death of his rider. On occasion, he would shriek from the top of his lungs. Although, in the first two days, I bet there were sorrow and agony. The same anguish Viserion felt when I had died. The men were careful in putting Daenerys on top of the pyre, as Kovarro put her in place.

Red Rock came over, holding the three dragon eggs, "Do you want these with the Khaleesi?"

"Yes, hand them over to Kovarro," I instructed.

Red Rock nodded as he headed over to the pyre.

Jorah, who saw this, came over, "This won't bring back the dragons."

"I know," I mumbled. "Only a token."

The last time the dragon eggs were used on a pyre, a witch was being burned. There was no witch, yet I want my sister to hold these treasures in the afterlife. It was clear the dragon eggs were petrified. Merely crystals and gems, nothing more. A delusion in reviving more of the dragons. By the time the pyre was finished, the sun has finally begun to set, and the torches lit.

I stepped forward in front of the pyre speaking in Dothraki, **"May the Riders welcome you and lead you through the Great Stallion's starry Khalasar. May they sing your name with love and fury so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Night Lands and know that you've taken your rightful place at the King's table. For a great Khaleesi has fallen: A warrior. A Queen. A Sister. A friend."**

The Dothraki gave a battle cry agreeing to the speech.

I stared at the funeral pyre, seeing Daenerys rest in before saying, "_Dracarys."_

Viserion and Drogon raised their heads and breathed fire onto the pyre setting it ablaze.

"I'm sorry, Daenerys," I whispered as the tears fell. "I'm not the queen that you wanted me to be. I'm not the Peacekeeper I thought I was. I don't know…"

I stood there, watching the flames burn the pyre away. All of the Dothraki gave their wailing cries. They were keening, a loud wailing, or lament for the dead. Their song entering my ears soothing the agonizing pain I felt inside, rattling my bones even though it could not vanquish the emptiness inside me. Their cries awaken a wave of anger deep inside. A rage I have never felt before, filled with so much hatred, that the flames I've seen turned red with blood.

I gave a scream from the top of my lungs.

Cersei wants violence, I will give her violence.

The entire night I stood there watching the flames consumed all the treasures and Daenerys. Slowly turning her body into ashes. The flames captivating me, leaving a trance to see the visions of what Daenerys wanted me to see. Seeing the dragons flying over King's Landing and burning the city to the ground.

_Burn them all_, Daenerys's voice whispered in my ear.

Follow by another voice. A voice I haven't heard in a long time, the voice of my father. Repeating the same words. Along with more voices from the dead and living. Memories from the past.

_He has the better claim to the throne._

_Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin._

_The Mad Kin gave his enemies the justice he thought they deserved._

_Children are not their fathers._

_Be a dragon._

_You have a gentle heart._

_A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing._

_You don't want to awake the dragon, do you?_

_Burn them all!_

I inhaled sharply as the rage buries deep inside me through the heart. My hands were literally shaking while the tears came down like acid. This rage, this anger consuming me with so much hate. All I have done. All of this for nothing. I could feel the scars on my body burn. As if they were ripped open while the phantom blood seeped along my body.

When all of a sudden, a hand was placed on my shoulder. This snapped me out of my trance as I realized it was almost dawn. The pyre was no more, merely ashes and ember. I glanced over my shoulder to see Jorah with a concerned look. Have I've been standing here all this time? I nearly covered my mouth as the tears fell from the emotions I felt.

A side of me I've haven't felt in a long time.

Not since my attempt to kill Viserys.

Shaking my head, I stared at the ashes, until noticing Drogon going to the center. Curious, I walked over to see what is going on. As I reached the center, my eyes widen all of the treasures, and remains were gone, leaving nothing but ash…yet the dragon eggs remained. Drogon lifted his head and stared at me. The pain of losing his rider still in his eyes. He took a deep breath then tensed.

"What is it, Drogon?" I asked.

He lifted his head and nudged me in the stomach. The actioned surprised me, for I didn't expect that. He did it again that I almost stumbled. His nostrils flaring as he continued to breathe in my scent.

"Drogon," I said, trying to calm him down.

Yet he nudged me again. I was utterly confused when all of a sudden, I stumbled backward, falling onto the ground. Viserion rushed over, pushing his brother away. I was thoroughly confused about what just happened. Why Drogon was acting like this. Jorah rushed over as did Missandei and Grey Worm.

"Are you alright?" Jorah asked.

"I'm fine," I answered, watching the two dragons.

They were talking to one another before looking at me. Jorah helped me up, keeping a secured arm around me.

"What would you like for us to do with the ashes?" Missandei asked as she referred to the pile of ashes the dragon eggs laid on top of.

I took a deep breath, "Put them in an urn. We will have a place for it the crypt."

Missandei nodded.

I sighed, feeling light-headed. The weight dragging my eyelids down, impossible to fight them anymore. As everything went dark and my body collapsed.

**.o0o.**

Jorah caught Alysanne as she fainted. He knew the stress was getting to her and six days without sleeping. Fortunately, the Dothraki left and hour ago. But still, he worried about his wife's health. She needed to rest and eat, not waste away.

"I'll take her inside," Jorah said to Grey Worm and Missandei." Can you handle the ashes?"

Grey Worm and Missandei nodded. Jorah nodded appreciating it, before carrying Alysanne back inside towards the Castle. As he made his way, he noticed Quaithe standing there. He can feel her brown eyes staring at them. When he got closer, he looked at her.

"You need to be there for her," Quaithe murmured.

"I am," Jorah said.

"She is struggling," she noted. "Emotionally and mentally. Remind her she is not alone."

Jorah sighed, "How bad?"

Quaithe just stared at him.

"How can I make her sleep more and eat," he asked.

Quaithe stared at Alysanne, seeing how frail she has become since Daenerys's captured.

"I will provide scented candles and incense that can ease her to sleep," she answered. "Along with herbal oils for the bath. Make her talk to you."

Jorah only nodded, although it was easier said than done. Either way, he has a month to get his wife ready for the siege, even if it means convincing her to stay on Dragonstone during it. In the end, he will remain by her side and help her through this trialing time.

* * *

**Things are getting intense.**

**Hey guys, I'm going to be more focus on _Sister's Keeper_ for the rest of August. I finally got a job offer to start my career and I'm totally excited. They job won't start until September, and _Sister's Keeper_ is almost done. So, apologies in advance if you are looking forward to _Warg Maiden, The Other Lannister Sister,_ and _Dothraki Moon Festival. _**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	97. Chapter 97: Dragon's Wrath

_**Sister's Keeper**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 97: Dragon's Wrath**

_Alysanne's POV_

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in Dragonstone. Only it was in the past with the finer details of luxury. I was in the throne room. I sat on the ground, staring at the carved stone, not wanting to look at Visenya. I needed her guidance for three weeks, and she ignored me. So many emotions stirred inside me. The anger, the rage, practically the same emotions the Ice Dragon held.

The sounds of her shoes echoed across the floor. When Visenya stood in front of me, about to kneel to give a hug. I drew Frozenfang and went for the attack. Visenya immediately pulled away, drawing Dark Sister. The emotions were in charge, basically irrational as I went into the attack. Our Valyrian blades clashing over and over, causing sparks to fly. I couldn't stop, I just wanted to hurt her. Wanting to hurt somebody.

Our hands were high up on the guards of the swords. Using the high guard position. Visenya using both hands while I only had one. Our strikes becoming more subtle yet far quicker. I went for the attack, which Visenya did a spin, blocking from the other side. I was blind with rage, trying the perry upwards towards her face, when Visenya kicked me in the legs, causing me to fumble.

She maneuvered around me, disarming Frozenfang, before pressing Dark Sister against my chest with the blunt side while securing me from behind. I tried fighting her off, doing a headbutt, except she merely kicked me behind the knees, causing me to collapsed while restraining me. Visenya had the upper hand.

"Let it out," she murmured.

I growled, trying to break free, yet her hold became tighter, making it impossible to move. I bowed my head, screaming. Crying in defeat. After a while, Visenya dropped Dark Sister and held me properly. I sobbed, clinging to her robes. She shushed me, combing her fingers through my hair.

I knew I was in the wrong to attack her. She knows the emotional pain I was going through since she lost Rhaenys in the First Dornish War. Although she did not witness her sister fall, but the arrow that took down Meraxes is the same pain I was feeling. Two sisters who sacrificed themselves for their older siblings. Rhaenys died for Aegon's legacy, and Daenerys died for mine. We didn't ask for it, and yet they took the risk.

Once the tears stopped falling, and I calmed down. I felt drained, that Visenya helped me up and guided me to the Master Apartment. She led the way to the bathing chamber and started a bath.

"Why are you starting a bath?" I asked.

"The scars on your body reopened," she answered.

I stared down at my body, the scar on my chest where Viserys cut me. The blood soaking my tunic. I glanced at my left shoulder, seeing more blood and feeling it spilling down on my back. This surprised me, yet I was emotionally exhausted to respond. It brought back the memory during the funeral—those dark thoughts.

Visenya came over and started removing the clothes, exposing the caked blood and fresh wounds. She sighed as she took my hand and lead me to baths. The hot water started to warm my cold skin. Meanwhile, Visenya removed her robe and grabbed a sponge to wash away the blood.

"The emotional trauma has ripped, showing itself in a way you can understand. All the scars you had for Daenerys are opening again," she explained, washing the blood off my back.

She handed me a sponge, as I began to wash the blood off my chest. I felt my chest feeling the opening of the wound back when Viserys cut me. The memories filled my head since Viserys was in a drunken rage after the Dothraki ritual of Daenerys eating a horse's heart to prove her son was worthy to the Khalasar. His jealousy and temper destroyed the majority of my life.

I continued to wash my chest, feeling the numbness return. Despite the bath's hot water, my veins were becoming cold—a tingle sensation around the wounds and my fingers. I tried to bring back the sensation to my fingers by scrubbing my nails. No matter how much I scrub away the phantom blood, it always remains there. As if Daenerys blood lingers on my hands. I asked her to head to Dorne. To get the Dornish marching, and it cost her, her life. An irritated sighed escaped my lips dropping the sponge and covering my face in guilt.

"You have my hand, Alysanne, and my ear, if you need it," Visenya murmured.

I took a deep breath, feeling my throat clenched, "Why weren't you there? Why did you ignore me?"

Visenya sighed.

"I needed you," I whispered. "I needed your guidance, your ability to handle the situation."

Visenya washed my shoulder, "You didn't need me."

I thrashed around, glaring at her, "You're wrong. I needed you. I spent weeks filled with anxiety and scared. My dreams clouded with nightmares of my sister being tortured or worse. Even just coming here to escape the nightmares. You have been there for me…until now. You're practically a mother to me."

Visenya gave a sad smile as she took my hand, "Sometimes, in order for the offspring to grow is by not helping them at all and let them figure out for themselves. You needed to learn and grow without me. It was time for you to depend on yourself and the council."

"My council failed me," I sobbed, bowing my head. "It costed Daenerys's life."

Visenya cradle my head, "Your sister accepted death. She knew she had a purpose, and the price it came from. You have been your sister's keeper since you were four years old. But in the past few years, she has tried to be your keeper. Knowing she won't be there in the end."

Another sobbed escape.

"I want Cersei dead," I cried. "I want her head."

Visenya lifted my head to look at her, "You have every right to be angry. Every right to take your vengeance on the people who wronged you. However, don't let that anger consume you. This anger you are feeling is the dragon's wrath. Many Targaryens have succumbed to it. It feels like nothing can take it, except eliminating the cause for the fury. And it will change you, take you a dark place that holds consequences. You need to let this wrath go before it consumes and turn you into something you are not."

"How?" I begged.

"That is for you to decide," she murmured, wiping the tears away. "You must dig deep inside yourself and let go." She then kissed the top of my head, "Right now, you stay here to allow your body to rest."

I only nodded, knowing the dead can't give the precise answer.

Sleep wasn't necessary for this realm, or the grief still has prevented it. I merely spend the nights walking along within castle, trying to find the answers. Even went to the Sept of Dragonstone. In the present and reality, the Sept of Dragonstone was destroyed because of Stannis Baratheon's fanatical conversion. In the Sept, it contains statues representing the Seven Aspects of the Seven gods, carved from the masts of the ships that had carried the first Targaryens from Valyria. The statues were beautiful with painted with jewelry decorating them. The Crone had pearl eyes; the Father had a gilded beard.

Meanwhile, the Stranger looked more animal than human. Not a mysterious figure in a shroud. I would sit in the middle and pray to the Seven for their guidance. They spoke to me during the Siege of Yunkai and the Battle of Winterfell. However, all I heard was silence.

I inhale sharply, wondering why the Gods were not listening to my prayers. Why they haven't given me a sign. Unable to hold myself in the Sept, I headed towards Aegon's Garden. The melancholy garden calmed my senses, smelling the piney scents while sitting by the wild roses. Cutting a few of and picked at the petals, trying to figure out what to do with the siege coming up. Debating if the original plan will work. A part of me wanted to ride Viserion and burn down the Red Keep. Let King's Landing be and destroy my ancestral home. Just destroy it with Cersei inside it.

Damn the Iron Throne.

I covered my face taking a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. After a few deep breaths, I lower my hands and saw some movement. It happened so fast, but for a moment, I thought I saw someone who wasn't Visenya. The person appeared to be male. I got up going after him, seeing him walking out of the garden. I could barely make out his appearance, he wore black scale armor and a red cloak. He had short golden-white hair along with a band encrusted with rubies.

"Wait!" I called out.

The man continues to walk. His pace was long strides that I couldn't catch up, even when I was near run, he was still too far away. He was heading towards Windwyrm. A tower shaped like a dragon that screamed defiance. I was practically running, trying to catch up to the man. I was getting closer, just as he reached the door. I reached forward to grab his cloak, when all of a sudden, he vanished. I stumbled back, wondering what just happened.

Was that a…a ghost?

I slumped against the door, taking a deep breath.

"I've gone mad," I cried.

"You are not mad," Visenya scolded, appearing out of nowhere. She knelt down, taking my hand. "Dragon's Wrath is hard to control. You need to come to your senses and let it go."

I just don't know how to let it go. I've let go of so much from my past, losing memories of family in Westeros. Forgiving so many people who have wronged me during the rebellion, after discovering the truth. Even Viserys, I have forgiven over time. So how can I have this rage when witnessing my sister's death.

"Who was that man?" I asked.

"What man?" she replied, confused.

"I saw a man and chased him here," I explained.

Visenya furrows her brows, examining the area. Seeing we were at Windwyrm. She then sighed, "It might have been a memory. Sometimes memories would appear now and then. With so many Targaryens, the man you saw could be anyone. "

I sighed, for I was curious who the man was. For if it was another spirit who can give guidance.

"It is time for you to wake up," She said.

"Must I?" I asked. "I don't know if I can control myself. Or make the biggest mistake of my life."

Visenya cradled my cheek, "You will find a way to control this rage. You have a husband who is there for you. Don't make the same mistake I did with Aegon."

"I'm scared," I said.

"I know, just trust yourself and your closes allies," she murmured. "Now, it's time to wake."

With nothing else to say, she leaned over and pecked my forehead waking me up.

**.o0o.**

It was late afternoon when I woke up. I don't know how long I've been asleep. I simply found myself in the master apartment alone. Missandei is probably fetching fresh supplies while Jorah is handling the preparation for battle. The numbness still remained, as the spiraling rage stirred deep in my stomach that I have the urge to vomit. The thought caused my stomach to comply as I rushed to the bathing chamber towards the privy to vomit the little content.

_Damn this stress_, I thought.

I thought the stress I had when traveling through the Ghiscari Provence was one thing. But three weeks or so, it has been more than a headache or migraine. It was like all my emotions are taking form. I need to get a hold of myself. Not let this dragon's wrath as Visenya puts it take control of me. Otherwise, I will not be able to perform for the War Council. I need to shut down this grief for a month. Be numb to grief, not to the world.

I took a deep breath, getting up, and leaving the bathing chamber. I put on a shawl, before taking a chair and walked over to the balcony. I sat down and stared at the horizon. Watching as Drogon and Viserion hunting in the bay, catching massive fish and other sea creatures. Their movement being almost to a dance. I was in a trance, watching them hunt as my mind went blank, not thinking about anything or anyone.

It would be night when Jorah entered the room. He stared at me as I sat by a chair, staring out towards the darkness. A shawl still wrapped around my shoulder. He took a deep breath, removing his cloak and tunic before coming over.

"The sight of you tears my heart…fills me full of rage," he said as he came over, resting a hand on my shoulder, before kneeling before me. "I feel I must kill someone."

"Daenerys's ashes" I mumbled.

"Missandei and Grey Worm collected all from the center pyre. They've have put it in a jeweled encrusted chest, and the Unsullied have been making a marble tomb next to your mother." He assured, taking my hand.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, "I'm sorry that I am."

Jorah stared into my eyes, squeezing my hand. He opened his mouth to speak, yet I pulled away, walking towards the fireplace.

"I don't want you to worry about me," I said, adjusting my shawl. "Ah, I'm just a little shaken."

Jorah stood as he walked over, but stop giving to give space, "Alysanne, I know what it feels like—"

"No," I interrupted, the anger vibrating in my body with burning tears. "No, I have lived a life on the run…and I have lost a child. I lost a brother-husband. Raped by him for so many years. I've been starved with an army, and I-I've been beaten, and I've been betrayed, and I've –" another sobbed escaped as I cling to myself, before covering my face. "I've… I've been imprisoned, and I will not…" I covered my mouth to suppress another sob before taking a deep breath. "I survived. And this…I am supposed to be shattered by this? The Last Targaryen. Well, I won't be. I won't…" more sobs escaped. "Dany's death won't go in vain."

Jorah came closer and wrapped me in his arms. He kissed the top of my head while rubbing my back.

"Her death won't be in vain," he assured, still embracing me.

"I'm scared in becoming my father," I confessed, burring my face into his chest.

Jorah cradle my cheek, gently guiding me to look at him, "You are not your father. Ser Barristan says you are your mother's daughter."

"My father became mad around the age I am in," I reminded him.

"Alysanne," he said, holding my face. "You are not going mad. You are grieving. You are mourning. You have every right to be angry at the world. After everything you've been through, you have every right. All I ask is for you not to push me away."

I nodded until my stomach growled.

Blush dusted my cheeks, which he smiled.

"I could eat something right now," I mumbled.

Jorah pecked my forehead, "I'll have someone bring you some food."

I nodded, stepping away. Jorah went to the door to tell the guard to get some food. I sat down by the fireplace, wiping the tears away. By the Seven, it is like a never-ending waterfall. When I glanced at the fireplace, I've noticed the dragon eggs have been placed on the fire. Missandei must have put them there. I honestly thought the dragon eggs would turn to ash, yet they remained, except not as dragnets.

My husband came back as he sat down next to me.

"How long have I've been asleep?" I asked.

"About two days," he answered, taking my hand.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. "In how I've been acting these past few weeks."

"I don't hold it against you. The situation is not what we expected, and grief takes many forms." He assured. "When I lost my mother, her death distance the relationship between my father and I. She held us close, yet when she died, her death broke my father's heart that he was distant for some time."

I nodded, squeezing his hand, "I don't know how I married a good man."

"I'm not a good man," he reminded me. "We somehow managed to work together."

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, "Still, you have been there for me. Even when I don't want you, you were always there serving and protecting me."

"As I told you before, I will fight for you, kill for you. And die for you."

"The only death I want you to have is of age," I said.

"The same for you," he agreed.

Jorah has been my rock. He keeps me stable in situations in which I don't understand. He has been there for me since the beginning after Pentos. Despite his betrayal, which was more towards Viserys, he redeemed himself. I am thankful the gods have delivered him to me. Even if he is stubborn as a bear.

After a while, a tray of food was brought in. It was stew, with some potatoes and bread. Sitting at the table, I ate the stew, knowing it has been tested. At first, it was a struggle for not properly eating for over a week. Yet once the bowl was empty, my stomach felt satisfied. Jorah was pleased that I was eating again.

Once done, Jorah took the tray out while I climbed back into bed. When he returned, he changed, before climbing into bed again. Already, I felt tired again. The emotional exhaustion cleared as day. So, I curled up against my husband, breathing in his scent. Jorah wrapped his arms around me while rubbing my back. I feel bad that I've been failing at my duties as a wife, yet I've been emotional. It wasn't long before I fell asleep again.

This time the dreams were empty.

No nightmares.

A peaceful void of nothing.

Despite the rage stirring inside me whispering in the back of my head.

**.o0o.**

The following day I dressed and groomed before heading to the Painted Table to go over some battle plans. Although I need to talk to Tyrion. Right now, I don't feel comfortable with Tyrion as Hand of the Queen. When it comes to a situation involving his family, it seems like he gives them the benefit without a doubt, instead of seeing the bigger picture. Ever since arriving in Westeros, other than the plan for the Unsullied crossing through Westeros.

His failure to save Daenerys was the final straw.

When I entered the Chamber of the Painted Table. I found Tyrion was already there along with Varys. Those two are basically inseparable. I took a deep breath for this was a private conversation. I talked with Jorah about this, and he agreed. As much we respect Tyrion, he is compromised when it comes to his family. Although he wants to overthrow Cersei, his family is still his weakness.

"Varys, leave the room, I need to talk with Tyrion in private," I said.

Varys gave the nod, before leaving the chamber. Tyrion straightens up, hesitant almost. I have not truly spoken to him since Daenerys's death.

"Your Grace," Tyrion greeted. "I'm glad to see you are well."

I merely nodded, staring at him to see what else he will say.

"My deepest condolences," he added. "Your sister was remarkable."

I nodded again, "Lord Tyrion, it has come to my attention that you are no longer capable of being the Hand of the Queen."

This surprised Tyrion, not expecting it, "May I ask why?"

"Don't get me wrong, Tyrion, you make a good council. However, I need a Hand who takes me seriously and listens. Twice you have told me that your sister will help us in the armistice and the negotiation to get Daenerys back. You say you know your sister. But I don't think you know her. You are biased when it comes to your family. You give them the benefit without a doubt, despite everything they have done to you. I need my Hand to be guarded when it comes to the other Lords and Ladies. Not letting familiarity blind them." I explained.

"I see," Tyrion said.

"You are welcome to my council, and when the time comes, I will arrange a Master's position," I assure him.

"And who will be your Hand now?" he asked, removing the badge eyeing it.

"No one, right now, I need to make my own decisions," I answered.

Tyrion took a deep breath, before stepping over handing the badge over. I know I have offended him, maybe hurt his feelings. But the trust I had in him is gone. He barely did anything since arriving in Westeros. His vendetta against his own family is not strong enough to serve my purpose. And when the time comes, I will not be sparing Cersei Lannister. I will have Cersei Lannister executed. She will pay for what she did to my sister, the Tyrells, and everyone who has been a victim. There is no chance of her surviving all this.

Afterward, I let the Small Council inside the chamber. Jorah came over as he took my side. Meanwhile, Missandei, Grey Worm, and Varys entered the room. Everyone taking their position. Once settled, I looked at everyone.

"When will the War Council arrive?" I asked.

"The Velaryon, Celtigar, and Redwyne naval fleet will be here in a few days. Lord Willas has sent his brother Ser Garlan to take charge again of the Reachmen, along with Ser Gareth, with the remaining Stormlander knights. The Dornish are marching as we speak, including their naval forces." Varys reported.

"We have the numbers," Grey Worm said.

"We need a plan," Varys reminded.

"One of our original plans is to have the Naval Fleet blockade," Jorah said. "The Golden Company will most likely take the front line outside the gate while the Lannister forces protect inside of the city."

"Our plan is to starve them out while sneaking out men passed the Euron's Fleet, and take hold of the Red Keep," Tyrion added.

"What is there another way?" I started.

"What do you have in mind?" Missandei asked.

"We still continue with handling the Golden Company. Meanwhile, Viserion and I focus on the Red Keep," I answered. "the city will be remains unharmed, but the castle destroyed."

Varys and Tyrion's eyes widen when hearing this.

"Cersei has the people and refugees staying at the Red Keep," Varys reminded.

"Then have your little birds whisper that the Red Keep is not safe," I said.

"We should at least wait until the War Council arrives," Tyrion insisted.

I only nodded. Right now, my patience is running thin. Killing Cersei inside the Red Keep will be faster than waiting it out for the people to overthrow their false Queen. A new capital can be anywhere. I mean, I can rebuild Summerhall or make Dragonstone to house the royal family. Either way, I want this war to be over and done.

"You have until the War Council arrives to figure out the final plan," I warned the council. "Either it is the first, second, or third. I need variety now and security. We are no longer playing a game. This is war, and peace is no longer on the table."

With nothing else to say, I left the room with Missandei.

* * *

**Inspiration has been from **_**Outlander**_**.**

**Who do you think the man was in the spirit realm?**

**Has Alysanne gone mad or is it anger?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


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